


Unremarkable

by Trexi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Identity Reveal, Peter is Worthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trexi/pseuds/Trexi
Summary: It starts with a field trip to Avengers Tower, but this Peter Parker is far more paranoid about his secret identity after Captain Stacy’s death.





	1. Keep Your Head Down

One week until graduation. One week of keeping my head down. One week until I don’t have to see Gwen Stacy every day and turn the other way. Some promises have to be broken. Like a promise to myself to stay out of it when New York was attacked by aliens. People were dying. I’ll never regret risking exposure to the Avengers if it meant staying on the edge of the battle and getting as many people out of there as possible. Some promises can’t be broken. Like a promise to a dying police captain on the roof of a skyscraper who just wants to keep his family safe. I’ll never stop regretting bringing the Stacy family into my mess.

Final exams are over. I somehow started high school with a relentless bully and ended it with him as a friend. Turns out Flash is just fine after you slam him against a locker without breaking a sweat. He approached me again when I came to school covered in bruises after my fight with the Lizard. That time I chose to listen, mainly because my body was too sore to lash out. Apparently, Spider-Man inspired him to be a better person and stop taking out his anger on others. It’s … nice knowing that the mask does more than hurt people.

Today, more than ever, I have to keep that line between Peter Parker and Spider-Man as clear as possible. Someone decided it was a good idea for the graduating class to go on a field trip to Avengers Tower. It was put to an anonymous vote across the cohort. One person voted no. I voted no. Spider-Man is already on the Avenger’s radar. They tried to talk to me after the chaos in New York was dealt with. Steve Rogers himself approached me while I was helping with the clean-up. I did what any self-respecting superhero would do in that circumstance. I acted like I had no idea who Captain America was until I was finished removing debris and ran for it the moment his back was turned.

I don’t want Spider-Man to be famous. I’ve seen the kind of damage famous superheros’ villains do. I almost got the entire city turned into giant lizards because I wasn’t careful enough about my identity, because I shared the wrong information with the wrong person. The Avengers don’t wear masks. The Avengers aren’t ostracised by the police. The Avengers’ families are constantly at risk. I’ve done the math. I’d rather they don’t know I exist, both Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

They’ve already met one. And today, they’re going to meet the other.

Flash bumps his shoulder against mine as we get off the bus. “Don’t tell me you were that one person who voted not to come here, Parker.”

“Thought you knew the meaning of anonymous.”

 “C’mon, man, I thought you’d be drooling over being in a tower practically dedicated to science.”

“I’m best friends with Harry Osborn. I’m kind of used to the whole surrounded by science thing.”

Even if he’s been out of the country for years now and only stays in contact through monthly emails at best.

“You better not say Oscorp’s better than Stark Industries in here. Iron Man himself might come down to correct you.”

I doubt that. Hopefully, this whole trip goes without us coming within fifty feet of any of the Avengers.

“I’m not a fan of either. Oscorp’s ruined the lives of too many people that I care about, and SI may have claimed to stop making weapons, but the Avengers were definitely sporting Stark tech at their latest press conference.”

I wouldn’t have a problem with it if they were upfront about it.

“I still can’t believe taking photos of Spider-Man led you to be the Bugle’s go to superhero photographer.”

“Trust me, if it didn’t pay so well, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

Flash rolls his eyes. “You make zero sense, Parker.”

I shrug and am saved from answering as our tour guide greets us inside. Everyone else is occupied with gawking at the building. I’m acting like I’m doing the same, while letting my other senses take in any potential threats to both identity and safety. There are more cameras in here than even Oscorp, and interestingly enough, hidden speakers in the ceiling. I’m the only one in the group who doesn’t jump when a voice greets us.

“Hello, Midtown School of Science and Technology. I am JARVIS, an AI designed by Tony Stark. I’ll be ensuring your safety for the duration of your visit.”

AKA making sure we don’t veer off from the group. If Oscorp had this kind of tech, I’d never have been bitten.

The tour guide takes that as her cue to distribute ID badges and direct us through security. I’m beyond glad I chose to leave the webshooters at home. There’s no way an AI designed by Iron Man wouldn’t detect them and immediately tell its creator.

“Today, we’ll be touring the intern and entry-level labs to show you what Stark Industries has to offer you post-graduation. Then, you’ll be among the first tour groups to see the newly completed Avengers training floor where we might be lucky enough to catch a few of them mid-session.”

More like unlucky enough.

Flash shakes his head at my disgruntled expression and pulls me along with the group as we start moving. I make the mistake of looking at Gwen who definitely recognises my reluctance to be here. And she smirks at it. That’s fair, I guess. Last time I was on a tour like this, I almost cost Gwen her internship. Plus, that life-changing spider bite that left me with a painfully ironic fear of spiders. Somebody else try and have that many spiders drop onto them, all trying to bite them, and walk out without an apprehension among the eight-legged creeps.

For all I said earlier about being used to fancy labs, I’ll admit I might drool a little over the first labs we walk into. Flash notices, of course, and laughs at me.

I scowl and mutter, “Look, Spider-Man.”

Flash practically jumps three feet in the air as he looks where I’m pointing. This time I laugh.

“He’s not an Avenger, you know,” I point out.

“Well, he should be. He’s saved New York too.”

“I don’t think that’s the entry requirement.”

A voice chuckles behind us. “Some of us have done more damage to the city than good.”

My senses flare. Thanks for the warning … not.

Every single person in the lab turns to look at the person behind us. I feign interest until I see who it is. Okay, this Avenger is definitely an exception to the whole avoiding them at all costs rule. Bruce Banner stands before us, dropping his relaxed stance as he looks at all the people watching him.

“You’re my hero,” I blurt out. “If I can make even a quarter of the contributions to science that you’ve made, then I can die happy.”  

I slap a hand over my mouth before I can keep going, face no doubt as red as my suit.

Flash is badly holding back a laugh, a snort or two escaping his mouth. Several someones are laughing behind me. I can even hear Gwen’s laugh mixed in there. This is not what I was worried about in my extensive lists of things to worry about while in the Avengers Tower. It should’ve been top of my list. RIP Peter Parker, died embarrassing self in front of personal hero.

“Well,” Doctor Banner says, “it’s nice to meet a fan of my work, and not … the other guy.”

My hand drops. “Don’t even get me started on the unjustified reaction of the American military to-.” I cover my mouth with two hands this time.

Keep your head down, Parker. How hard is that? Don’t try and fanboy over Doctor Banner. Head down. Mouth shut.

Doctor Banner is smiling at me. The Doctor Banner is smiling at me.

“Tony asked me to tell you all about the most recent developments in SI’s R&D. At least, that’s what he said ten minutes ago when he remembered you were here and that he was meant to be doing this instead. I’m sure after he’s had to time to properly wake up, he’ll join us on the tour.”

And back to dreading every moment.

Doctor Banner almost manages the impossible: makes me like Stark Industries. Almost. Then, I recognise something a dead-tired intern is working on and trip on air. That’s a webshooter. It’s pathetically low-tech and nothing at all like the real-deal, but it’s definitely an attempt at my webshooters. I cover up my shock with mild interest and jab Flash with my elbow.

“What was that for?”

I point at the intern. “Look familiar?”

“Holy shit! Is that Spidey’s webshooter?”

“No, but it’s close,” I lie.

It’s only close in the general design. I seriously doubt it’d be functional, especially without the web fluid.

“What are they doing trying to build Spider-Man tech?” Flash asks loudly.

I internally sigh, as he draws the attention of everyone, including Doctor Banner’s curious gaze.

“You recognise it?” he asks.

“Only after Peter pointed it out. He’s Spidey’s personal photographer.”

“I take a few blurry shots for the Bugle, that’s all. Spider-Man’s not exactly the easiest to take a picture of.”

The tour group parts for Doctor Banner as he walks closer to us. “Tony likes giving tasks like these to the interns to measure their ability to problem solve. They’re usually things he doesn’t have time to experiment with himself, but still wants to know that answer for. So far, none of the interns have managed to recreate either Spider-Man’s webshooters or the webbing he uses.”

I stop myself from asking how much he’d pay to learn. It’s one thing to sell selfies to make Aunt May’s life easier. It’s another to sellout my identity, so that I don’t need to work more hours once I’m in college.

“Why not just invite Spider-Man to the Avengers?” Flash asks, because of course he has to.

“All attempts to reach out to him have been rejected,” Doctor Banner says.

Okay, technically only Captain America tried ‘reaching out’. I mean, sure, I might’ve spotted Iron Man getting in the way of a couple of my fights, but I had places to go, people to save. I can hardly be blamed for not sticking around the moment the fight was over. Sure, the NYPD aren’t trying to arrest me anymore, but they’re not exactly civil. It’s for the best that I stay out of their hair, absolutely nothing against random Avengers who may or may not be trying to stalk me.

The seeing Black Widow in the shadows one night and not being able to go home for hours in fear of being followed was definitely caused by sleep deprivation. I think.

I accidentally make eye contact with Gwen. She seems surprised, not by my awkward attempt to make myself seem smaller, but by the rejecting the Avengers thing. Maybe now she’ll realise that it’s not just her I’m trying to keep out of Spider-Man’s association. It’s everyone. Flash on the other hand is currently trying to pick his jaw up from the floor.

“Spider-Man said no to the Avengers?”

Doctor Banner shrugs. “As far as I’m aware, he left before any sort of offer could be made.”

Doctor Banner leads the tour group out of the labs and into several elevators. I duck into one beside Flash.

“Good thing Jameson hasn’t caught wind of it yet, or he’d be adding to the whole Spider-Man’s a menace thing,” I mutter.

“How do you even work for that guy, Parker?”

“It’s surprisingly easy to tune out the yelling when the paycheck means May doesn’t always have to take the night shifts.”

“But don’t you care that your photos are making Spidey look bad?”

“My photos are showing that Spider-Man’s still out there, saving New York even if half the city hates his guts for it. Maybe that can inspire at least one more person to persevere too, one more person to choose to be better. Jameson can’t take that away.”

“Maybe you should start writing the articles too.”

I scoff. “I’d rather pull apart an arc reactor, thanks.”

“That can be arranged,” Tony Freaking Stark says, as the elevator doors open, because of course he’s right there. “All SI interns are offered the chance. None have managed to figure it out yet, but if one does, they’d be given a full-time position.”

“No, thanks,” I say, again before I can stop myself.

That’s it. I need a mouth-to-brain filter.

Flash doesn’t cover up his laugh this time. “Peter’s the one person who didn’t want to come here.”

That of course gets the attention of both Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. The latter of which leans close to Stark.

“He recognised the webshooters on sight,” he whispers, way too quiet for anyone without enhanced hearing to hear. “Apparently, he’s that superhero photographer for the Bugle.”

“Interesting,” Stark says at a normal volume.

I should just stop opening my mouth. Bad enough to catch the attention of one Avenger, now two are looking at me like I’m some shiny new piece of equipment. I do what any ordinary teenager would do and duck my head, while mentally cursing the existence of Flash Thompson.

“Welcome to the Avengers Training Floor,” Stark says, as the last of the group get off the elevators. “I’m Tony Stark, obviously, and today we’ve got something fun for you all. Our dear friend Thor is ecstatically awaiting you in the next room with a little challenge.”

“He’s going to laugh at you while you try to pick up his magic hammer,” a voice says from above. Hawkeye drops from the air vents, yet another Avenger that my stupid Spidey Sense doesn’t pick up until after he speaks.

Stark looks offended for having his dramatics ruined. “Legolas, who invited you?”

“Pepper did when you didn’t confirm if you’d actually show. Plus, I wanted to laugh at them all struggling too. I’m the only one on the team who witnessed Thor himself not be able to lift it, therefore the only one who can keep his cockiness in check.”

That sounds like an interesting story, but I stop myself from asking alongside the twenty others.

Hawkeye waves the question off with a maybe later, before leading us into the massive training room. Stark jogs to try leading too, while Doctor Banner sighs and enters with the group. The room itself is covered in floor to ceiling training mats, excluding the giant glass windows at the side of the building. Thor stands in the centre of the room, his hammer on the floor in front of him.

“Midgardian younglings!” he booms. “Gather round and try an ancient Asgardian challenge. One by one you shall attempt to lift Mjölnir, a feat only the worthy can achieve.”

“Isn’t that just like King Arthur’s sword Excalibur?” someone asks.

Thor frowns. “I know not of this tale you speak of.” He turns to Stark. “Man of Iron, what do they speak about?”

“We’ll catch you up on it next movie night.”

Our teachers usher us into a rough circle and pick a random point to start with. The first person steps forward and tries to pick the hammer up but fails. It quickly becomes a game of sorts, everyone getting a go at trying to pick the hammer up in different ways, some even trying together, much to Thor’s amusement. Soon enough it gets to Flash who strides forward with a smirk. He fails and laughs it off, practically shoving me toward the hammer for my go. I roll my eyes at him before turning back to Mjölnir.

I half-heartedly tug at the hammer, and immediately fall on my ass, the hammer in my hand. Everyone in the room freezes. Crap. That is _not_ how you keep your head down.


	2. Act Ignorant

I’m going to need a plan of attack. Too bad I’m absolutely terrible at thinking on the fly when my Spidey Sense doesn’t decide to help out. That definitely translates into my social skills or lack thereof. I’m still not quite sure how I ever ended up dating someone, even with how terribly that ended. Alright. Enough of that. I can do this. It’s just every single person in the room is staring at me like I’ve just done the impossible. I mean, it’s only a little bit impossible. The literal Norse god could do it, so why not a totally normal random teenager too?

I clamber to my feet, making sure to emphasise the sheer awkwardness of the movement and hold the hammer out to Thor.

“Sorry, Prince Thor sir. I think your hammer’s broken.”

Bullshitting 101: act ignorant as all hell.

He takes the hammer back and without a word passes it to Stark, who immediately falls to the ground.

“Not broken,” Stark croaks, rubbing his arms.

I slowly back away. “Right then. Next person’s up.”

The guy next to me shakes his head. Huh. Turns out I don’t know half the names of my graduating class.

“Midgardian! What is your name?” Thor asks.

“Peter Parker,” I say, holding out my hand, this time without having to fake any awkwardness. It comes naturally. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

He grips my hand tightly and shakes it. I fake wince at his strength and cradle my hand to my chest. I don’t know what it says about the craziness of my life that the grip of a literal god doesn’t register on my pain scale.

Hawkeye is staring at me. I feel like he’s about to shoot me. And I’d have to let the arrow hit or say goodbye to my secret identity. I’ve got to disarm the situation as quickly as possible. I wave at Hawkeye.

“Hi there, Mr Scary Arrow Man. Please don’t shoot me.”

He blinks at me a few times and relaxes the intense stare. I let out a sigh of relief. I’m kind of hungry, like really hungry. That’s a thing right, random hunger in extremely awkward situations. Or maybe it’s ‘cause I can’t remember the last time I ate. It definitely wasn’t today.

“So that was a thing,” I say, because apparently, I still need to invest in that filter. “Can we go for lunch now, maybe come back to this later, or not at all. Both would be fine. I’m fine with both. Is everyone else fine with both?”

Nobody moves, still in obvious shock.

I poke Flash’s cheek. “You in there, man?”

“You lifted his hammer,” Flash whispers.

“Yeah, we’ve already been through that. It was really weird and the floor’s super hard by the way. Thanks for asking how falling on it felt. I’m fiiine. Not freaking out at all. So if you could come back to the realm of the living and help me out, my friend, my buddy, my only backup in this moment of sheer awkwardness, that’d be great.”

“JARVIS, I’m going to need all footage of Peter Parker since entering the building and a complete background,” Stark says, completely violating that little thing could privacy.

“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” I say.

“This is like that time you lifted me above your head and slammed me against a locker,” Flash says.

“Really not helping there, buddy,” I mutter. “And we both agreed that was caused by a combination of grief-fuelled adrenaline and an instinct to defend myself after the years of bullying, which I forgave ‘cause getting in fights with you was worrying May.”

Hawkeye leans over to Doctor Banner. “What’s the likelihood that the kid’s enhanced?” he whispers, which I have to act like I don’t hear because otherwise that would answer his question and I would really prefer that the Avengers don’t suspect me at all.

I turn to the closest teacher. “About that lunch break, any chance we could go now? I’d say this was a form of child abuse if the majority of us weren’t already eighteen, but you get the point.”

“If that’s alright with the Avengers,” she says.

“They’re not in charge of us,” my true saviour, Gwen Stacy, says. She immediately gives me an evil smirk. “Plus, it’s Peter they’ve got a problem with. The rest of us might as well go grab that lunch.”

“I regret ever dating you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Other way around?”

Gwen considers me for a moment, definitely taking into account that we’re surrounded by our entire graduating cohort and two thirds of the Avengers. “Verdict’s out on that.”

“Fair enough.”

“JARVIS, I’m going to need a background on,” Stark pauses, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

Gwen turns her hard glare on Stark. “Daughter of the former NYPD Chief of Police. I suggest you keep your new fascination with my ex on my ex and away from my family, or Iron Man’s going to have more trouble with the NYPD than Spider-Man did when my dad was in charge.”

Stark turns to me. “And you dated her?”

“I was the one who broke things off,” I say.

“Because my dad told you to,” Gwen grumbles.

“Well, he was right. And we both know it.”

Stark looks between us. “How the actual hell were you worthy of Thor’s fancy-pants magic hammer?”

I shrug. “Beats me.”

One of the frankly terrible teachers clears their throat. “Well, I believe it’s time to get the students of Midtown Science and Tech fed, before we send them home.”

“Parker stays,” Stark says.

“I’m pretty sure keeping me here against my free will is kidnapping,” I point out.

Hawkeye turns his glare back on me. “You’re staying, kid.”

“Okay. I’m staying.”

“You’re more scared of Legolas than me?” Stark questions.

“He doesn’t need a weapon to be intimidating. You need an entire suit of armour. Literally every other Avenger is more intimidating than you.” I notice Doctor Banner’s awkward shuffle. “Doctor Banner doesn’t even need to transform to be a part of that list. He’s obviously the smartest Avenger, even if he’s the second strongest.”

“Second strongest?” Thor asks. “You think I am the strongest then?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally, Black Widow takes the ball by miles.”

I look to Flash to get him to back me up, but him, and everyone else are sneaking into the elevators. “You’re a terrible friend, Eugene!”

“And you’re insane, Parker!”

I shrug. “The real insanity is my terrible luck.”

Stark shakes his head. “That’s it, take the kid to my office. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Thor swings his hammer back and forth as they escort me to the elevators.

“Aren’t you worried your fingers might slip and you’ll drop it, or send it flying into someone?”

“I have been wielding Mjölnir for over a millennium. It has been over half that time since I last dropped it.”

“But what if you’re really sweaty, like the lack of friction at some point has had to have made your fingers slip at least a little.”

“Even if that were the case, being worthy means that Mjölnir will always return to me whenever I call it. So if I were to exert myself in temperatures far greater than Midgardians could withstand and my fingers did somehow slip, my hammer would fly right back into my grip before I could drop it.”

“Okay, that’s cool.”

“Are you a warrior, Parker Son?”

“Nope,” I lie, in front of my all-time hero, a literal god, and a world-class superspy because this is my life now. “I take photos of warriors for a living though, well, superheroes, mainly Spider-Man ‘cause he’s out and about in New York the most and my boss really hates his guts.”

“Do you also hate this Man of Spiders?”

“I’m not a fan, but I understand that a lot of people in this city look up to him, so I try to make my photos encompass that.”

The elevator doors finally open, stopping me from blurting out more information about my life. I do not want any of the Avengers to be interested in me. Bad idea. Especially the guy whose magic hammer I lifted when I shouldn’t be able to.

“Your friend seemed to like Spider-Man a lot,” Doctor Banner comments, walking beside me. Thor’s in front and Hawkeye’s following. I’d be more worried about being literally surrounded by Avengers if I wasn’t already freaking out at just being in their presence without my mask.

I shrug. “Spidey inspired him to be a better person.”

“He used to bully you,” Hawkeye recalls.

“We’re all good now.”

“After you slammed him into a locker?” Hawkeye asks.

“I was going through a really rough time and wasn’t exactly expecting Flash of all people to try comforting me after… Well, I’m sure Stark would be happy to provide you the details of my life when he gets back from cyber-stalking me.”

Doctor Banner frowns. “Tony’s just trying to understand how…”

“Some random teenager was unlucky enough to pick up an Asgardian relic?”

“You keep insisting it was bad luck,” Thor says, opening a door to a massive office. “Most would be joyous at being worthy.”

“Most people would get to go home directly after a field trip and wouldn’t be going on over 24 hours without food because they got home late from work the night before, missing their chance at dinner and forgot to have breakfast this morning.”

Doctor Banner’s eyes widen. “We can go get you something while we wait for Tony.”

Hawkeye chucks something at me. I automatically catch it without looking and immediately stumble it, letting it drop to the floor. I smile sheepishly and pick the protein bar up.

“Thanks.”

“You should trust your instincts, kid.”

“Usually ends up with me in trouble.” I scoff the bar down, while the three Avengers loom to the side of the room. I awkwardly take the seat on this side of the giant desk and fidget with my hands. “Is anyone else getting serious called-to-the-principal’s-office vibes here or is it just me?”

Stark walks in with none other than Steve Rogers because a teenager lifting a hammer is reason enough to assemble the damn Avengers. I’m just glad Black Widow isn’t here too, or she’d see through my web of lies in an instant. Heh. Web of lies.

“Personal intern to Doctor Connors before his transformation, with no prior work experience,” Stark says, reading off his tablet and sitting across from me.

“My dad used to work with him. I swear he was a nice guy before that whole going crazy thing.”

“Best friends with Harry Osborn, heir to Oscorp.”

“Again, my dad worked for his dad. We met when we were really young, and Harry decided he was going to protect the scrawny nerd. He’s going to laugh his head off when I tell him about getting myself into this mess.”

“Parents died in a plane crash, left in custody of aunt and uncle, and uncle killed last year.”

“I know. I was there,” I ground out.

Thor’s hammer trembles in his grip, pulling slightly towards me. I stare at the thing like it’s a flying roach. It relaxes. I definitely do not need that thing making my life more difficult than it already has.

“Tony, ease off a little,” Steve says. He gets to be Steve for being nice and not staring at me in complete and utter disbelief like everyone else in the room is doing right now.

Stark clears his throat and puts the tablet down. “The Bugle’s go to superhero photographer. Must pay well.”

“Better than nothing.”

“An internship here would pay better.”

I laugh, then stop myself at his expression. “Why? Because I got unlucky and lifted a hammer?”

“Because you tripped on nothing when you recognised the webshooters downstairs.”

“I take photos of Spider-Man almost every day. Why wouldn’t I recognise an attempt to recreate his webshooter design?”

“Why would you care?” Stark asks.

“Because you claim Stark Industries stopped making weapons, yet the Avengers are all clearly equipped with your tech. Now you’re messing with another super’s tech without his permission? There are lines you don’t cross, and you’ve been skipping over them without a care in the world.”

Thor drops his hammer in my lap. I gently place it on the floor.

“A strong moral code is a sign of worthiness,” he says.

“Thanks. Can I go home now?”

“Still want a chance to pull apart an arc reactor?” Stark asks.

“Look, Mr Stark sir. I really appreciate all this, but I’m not exactly full of spare time. And as much as science and photography share an equal place in my heart, I don’t have time for both right now, not with going to college soon, my job at the Bugle and looking after my aunt. Also, as much as I’d love to get any sort of work experience in the industry, my last boss kind of went crazy and tried turning everyone in New York into giant lizards. I think that was a sign to wait until at least post-grad to even think about interning for mega science corporations again. Plus, Harry would probably come back to the country to kill me for even considering to work for his dad’s rival. And I really don’t want to fight with a friend I haven’t seen face to face in nearly a decade.”

I stumble out my chair and back out of the office. “So, yeah. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You can’t just leave,” Stark insists.

“Thing is, I kind of can, or again, kidnapping. Unless accidentally lifting a really old hammer is suddenly a crime, in which case, that’s on you for making us all take a turn.”

I get out of there before they can respond and start writing an email up to Harry in the elevator.

_‘You are not going to believe what happened to me today…’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to get out of an uncomfortable situation through awkwardness personified: A Guide by Peter Parker


	3. Play the Fool

Harry hasn’t gotten back to me in the past few days. He usually emails back way faster than this, especially after I give him yet another example at how much of a disaster I am at life sometimes. I hope he’s okay. I know he was super excited for me graduating in two days, even somehow managed to teach May how to livestream it, so he could watch from Italy or whichever country he’s in right now. I’ve barely managed to avoid the Avengers as Peter Parker in the meantime. I swear, it’s like they’re actually stalking me. I only managed get out as Spider-Man one time since that disastrous field trip, and even then, it was only because the news reported all six Avengers in DC doing some press conference.

School has done the impossible and gotten worse than ever before. Turns out, everyone knows about the Hammer Incident as I’m now calling it. I’ve had so many things thrown at me with people calling out that I should be able to catch them if I’m ‘worthy’. And I’ve purposely missed every single one of them unless it was thrown front on and not that hard. I _could_ easily catch anything they throw, no matter where from or how heavy, but I’m not about to out my identity to get a break from idiots. I learned my lesson the hard way with Flash.

He’s been pretty pissed off any time he sees someone throw something at me. One time he actually asked why I don’t bother with fighting back, but I just shrugged and said I get enough bruises as it is skateboarding, and that May doesn’t need the stress. Which is mostly true, just omitting the whole webslinging thing completely. Speaking of my better life, and at the same time normal life destroyer, I’ve apparently been summoned to Avengers Tower as Spider-Man. At least, Stark showed up in his Iron Man suit in the middle of my patrol tonight and demanded I follow him.

He also may have offered free food. I didn’t even hesitate.

I swing through the window of their common room and almost trip right over Thor’s stupid hammer, only avoiding it thanks to my senses finally doing their job when it comes to the identity wrecker. Stark just has to laugh at the sight of me hanging over it, balanced on the tip of my left foot’s toes. I have never been more grateful for superstickiness being a legitimate power. The elevator doors open, and I end up hanging upside down on the ceiling as the rest of the Avengers walk in.

“Hi, I’m Spider-Man, which you probably already knew or could guess from the whole web thing and spider on my suit.”

“Get off my ceiling before I grab a broom,” Stark grumbles, stepping out of his Iron Man suit, which would be really cool to watch if the guy hadn’t been such a jerk to Peter Parker earlier this week.

I gracefully drop from the ceiling next to Thor’s hammer. “That thing is a serious trip hazard by the way,” I say. “Pretty sure you shouldn’t be leaving it lying around in the middle of a landing zone.”

“ _This_ is Spider-Man?” Black Widow asks, which, rude.

I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet a fellow spider-themed hero.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re lying.”

I drop my hand. “I’m literally wearing a mask. How could you possibly tell that?”

“I’m a superspy, how else?” Black Widow drops onto a couch. “Call me anything but Natasha, and I’ll out your identity to the world.”

“One, you don’t even know who I am. Two, rude. Three, I’m going to listen to you anyway because you scare the crap out of me.”

Natasha smiles. I am officially unnerved.

“So, why am I here?” I ask. “Apart from being promised dinner of course. And I will hold you to that, Stark, whether I have to raid your fridge myself or not.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

“And having the human lie detector here is beyond not okay by the way.”

Steve sighs. “I’ll start cooking. Tony, go easy on him.”

“Why would he need to go easy on me? You guys aren’t going to try and stop me from Spider-Manning, right? ‘Cause technically, I saved New York first, just saying. So if any of us should be getting territorial, it should be me, which I won’t because I really don’t mind you being here. The city’s a big place. I’m sure we can all fit just fine, as long as you stop trying to follow me home to figure out my identity, looking at you Natasha, Hawkeye and Stark.”

Hawkeye frowns. “Why am I the only one addressed by my alias?”

“Because you haven’t told me to do otherwise.”

“Fair enough, keep going on your spider-rant.”

Stark groans. “You can’t just add spider to everything he does.”

“Spidey already does it.”

“And he’s an immature newbie.”

“Hey! I may have had my powers for less than a year, but I’ve still gone through hell to get here, so how about you keep your stupid opinions to yourself, Stark.”     

“Man of Spiders does not appear to like you, Man of Iron,” Thor says.

“We all caught that, Thor,” Doctor Banner says, sitting down too.

Tony plops onto the couch next to Banner. “Maybe Spider-Man can prove himself by lifting Thor’s hammer.”

“You’re not goading me into hurting myself, Stark.”

“Me? Never.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Liar.”

“Nat! You’re meant to be on our side. If I wear a spider on my chest too, will you come back to the light side?”

What? 

“I’m not the dark side,” I say. “I literally spend my nights fighting crime. How much more light side can you get?”

“Fighting during the day,” Hawkeye answers blankly.

“When it’s urgent enough, I do. Otherwise, I’m too busy with my normal life to be crimefighting 24/7.”

“When do you sleep?” Doctor Banner asks.

I shrug. “I find the time. It’s probably not enough, but better me getting a little less sleep and one more person being alive than the other way around.”

Thor summons his hammer to his hand and drops it onto the ground in front of me.

“Man of Spiders should test himself.”

“Thought we weren’t doing that anymore, after, you know, that thing happened,” Stark says.

Twenty bucks says his referring to me.

“We’re waiting until dinner’s ready to talk about that, Tony!” Steve calls from the kitchen.

Wait a moment. I’m about to eat a meal prepared by Captain America. How many people can both say that honestly, and not say it at all because literally nobody can ever know? I’m not sure if I love or hate my life right now.

“I’m curious about the result,” Natasha says, which pretty much settles it, with Hawkeye shoving me at the hammer.

Right. Now to pretend to try lifting a magic hammer without actually doing so. How hard could it be?

I plant my feet on either side of the hammer, like I’m bracing myself, but instead am sticking my feet both to the ground and hammer, so it isn’t tempted to make me fall over again. I grip the handle and do my best impression of straining to pull it upwards all while shoving it into the ground. I let go and stumble back, internally wincing as my senses flare and the hammer budges the tiniest amount. Thankfully, nobody notices. Ha. Try connecting a random teenager who can lift it to the superhero who can’t now.

“Did he do it?” Steve asks.

Stark’s grinning. “Nope. Turns out he’s just a rookie after all.”

“You lift it then,” I say.

“Now who’s goading who?” Stark asks.

I shrug. “I don’t need my name plastered on the side of a building to remind New York that I’m their hero. I just need to be there, helping out with all levels of crime, no matter the victim. So if either of us needs to prove himself on some magic hammer test, it’s you, Stark.”

Hawkeye slings an arm around my shoulder. “I like this one.”

“Hm,” is all Natasha says, standing. “Dinner.”

I let myself be dragged to the dining table. Hawkeye seats me between Natasha and Doctor Banner, and he sits across and to the left from me. I quickly realise it’s so he can throw random cutlery at me to test my Spidey Sense. Unlike at school, I easily catch every single thing thrown my way, without looking. Steve brings the pasta down and shoots Hawkeye a disapproving glare, which gets the archer to stop.

“Given the enhanced metabolisms at the table, I only had time to reheat some leftovers from lunch.” Steve says, like it’s an apology. “I figured it was best to feed you before we start on why you’re here.”

I take one bite and look at him in awe. “These are the best reheated leftovers I’ve ever eaten.”

Steve smiles. “Thanks.”

Stark rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he’s all nice to you for now. Just wait until you try to ask him a difficult question.”

“You’ve literally tried stalking me because you can’t handle not knowing who’s under my mask,” I point out. “And that’s only the start of why I don’t like you.”

“You like Nat and Barton fine.”

“They’re a lot scarier than you are. I’m less likely to snark them.”

Hawkeye laughs, and Natasha gives me a single nod.

“Why is everyone these days not scared of me?” Stark asks. “I’m plenty intimidating.”

“Not without your suit,” I mutter, around a forkful of pasta.

“And if you were without your suit?” Stark asks.

I smile. “I’d be able to do everything I can with my suit except shoot webs. Though technically, my webshooters aren’t attached to the suit itself. So, the only thing my suit does is protect my identity while being more aerodynamic than normal clothes.” I look up at Stark. “It’s also a symbol of hope. What’s yours a symbol of again? Oh, yeah, war.”

That shuts Stark up for a while, who somehow makes eating pasta look petulant.

“We wanted to talk to you about your friend Peter Parker,” Steve says out of nowhere.

I choke on my pasta. “That asshole photographer who sells my pics to Jameson? Yeah, he’s definitely not my friend. I spend most my patrols trying to get away from the guy, not getting close to him.”

I mean, what superhero doesn’t spend patrols trying to get away from their normal life?

Natasha nods the affirmative, which again, seriously not okay to have a human lie detector in a conversation with secret identities at stake.

The Avengers seem surprised by that. I surprised the _Avengers_. If I were still talking to literally anyone about being Spider-Man, I’d be bragging about this for days. As it is, the pigeons of New York are getting an earful once I’m out of here.

“It’s bad enough that Jameson twists every single one of my saves into another example of how I’m New York’s worst supervillain, but did you guys know I don’t even get a cut off my own merch? Who do I need to talk to in order to fix that? Cause I definitely can’t afford Iron Man level lawyers, and frankly suit repairs and web fluid ingredients don’t exactly pay for themselves. Even a 0.1% cut of all Spider-Man merchandise would completely cover superheroing expenses. Do you think I could claim it back under work expenses without outing my identity? Or are we not there yet in rights for supers?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Stark groans.

“Ask literally anyone I’ve ever fought. One time I got a thief to back down purely from talking him to exhaustion. That was a good day. Until one of my new experimental webshooters blew up in my face. Good thing the webs dissolve within two hours, or I would’ve been having some awkward conversations when I went to work. Shows that you really shouldn’t be playing around with recreating them downstairs, let alone letting innocent interns do it for you.”

“How do you even know about that?” Stark asks.

I slowly chew my pasta to drag it out. “They’re in a lab open to daily tours. How’d you think I know? I make a habit of ensuring that nobody tries recreating me. The last guy who did in any capacity turned into a giant lizard. And let me tell you, that was not fun at all.”

Shivers run up my spine. I catch the object thrown at me without looking and keep eating. “That was rude, Hawkeye,” I say between bites. “Do you see me throwing stuff at dinner guests? No, I was raised better than that.”

Hawkeye puts his hands in the air. “I’m innocent this time. Thor did it.”

“Good one, blame the Asgardian Prince.”

“He’s telling you the truth,” Natasha says, shock in her voice.

What the hell could shock a former world-best assassin? I look at my left hand and keep eating. Wait a moment. I look again at the hammer in my hand. Crap. Not again.

I end up on the ceiling the next second, plate of pasta in one hand, ancient weapon in the other. I glance between the two, shrug, web Mjölnir to the ceiling, and keep eating. The Avengers are staring up at me with their jaws dropped.

“What? It’s good pasta.”

“You caught the hammer,” Stark says.

“Five points to Ravenclaw!” I run out of pasta, and switch plates with Thor using my webs. “That’s what you get for throwing an ancient weapon of destruction at me. Again, rude. It’s like you lot have no clue how to handle house spiders. We’re really not that bad. I mean you tolerate Black Widow just fine, so what is this? Spider sexism? Like what if I hadn’t been able to catch it? It would’ve been an innocent spider eating his pasta one second, and a headless spider the next. We’re not like lizards, you know. We don’t regrow limbs, or heads for that matter.”

“I knew you would catch it, Man of Spiders. I saw Mjölnir budge when you attempted to lift it before.”

Of course he did. When has Parker Luck ever been on my side?

“Duh. Proportional strength of a spider right here. I can bench a bus without breaking a sweat. It’s still rude to go throwing that thing around so carelessly.”

“You knew you’d be able to lift the magic hammer?” Hawkeye asks.

I shrug. “Like I said, I’m really strong. I figured the mass of pure muscle over there would be offended if someone else lifted his hammer, so I faked it.”

“He’s lying.”

I point my fork at Natasha. “I am so not feeling the spider-fam connection.”

She glares at me.

“Fine, fine. I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want to be a part of you lot, yeah? So I figured that lifting the hammer would just attract more attention. The only reason I’m even still in this tower is ‘cause the pasta’s really nice and I’m kind of sick of takeout.”

“But you knew you would be able to lift it?” Steve clarifies.

“I’m both super strong and I can stick to surfaces. It makes sense.”

“The other guy couldn’t even make it budge,” Doctor Banner says, ruining my hopes and dreams like every personal hero before him.

“Only one other Midgardian has lifted Mjölnir,” Thor declares; he just sounds like a declaring kind of guy.

I again chew really slowly to draw out the moment, and hopefully agitate them enough to change topics. “How many have tried?” I ask.

Stark looks at me appraisingly, and boy, am I sick of that look being directed my way. “All the Avengers and a tour group of soon-to-be high school graduates. We were going to let future tours try, but after Peter Parker, _your_ _photographer_ , managed it, we didn’t want to hurt Thor’s feelings any more by making him feel less special.”

“Well, there you go. It’s no wonder only two humans have lifted the thing if you’ve got such a tiny sample size. The more people you test, the more likely someone else is going to lift the thing.”

Doctor Banner smiles at me. I’m never going to get over that.

“I didn’t know you were scientifically minded,” he says, and any other time I’d be fanboying so hard right now, but there’s a time and a place for that.

“I did build my webshooters and create the fluid. You don’t do that without proper testing practices.” I glare at Stark. “Or in your case, you don’t do that at all.”

“That a threat, Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, because I’m definitely going to threaten you in a room full of Avengers. That’s a great idea.”

“He’s lying.”

I turn my glare to Natasha.

“It’s called sarcasm. Totally doesn’t count as real lying ‘cause everyone knows you mean the opposite.” I run out of pasta. Nobody else has any left to steal. “Well, look at that. I’m out of food. And you lot are making me feel so attacked right now. So how about this, the next time one of your siblings decides to rain down fire and damnation on New York, I’ll do what I do best: swing around, save lives, and stay the hell away from you lot. Otherwise, no trying to assemble me because I’m not Lego, and kindly stay out of my fights unless I actually need help rather than am acting hurt to figure out the villain’s plans.”

I drop from the ceiling. “Oh, and I’d avoid this spot in roughly an hour for when the webbing dissolves. I would apologise for the dint the hammer’s going to make if someone hadn’t rudely thrown it at me in the first place.”

Thor holds out his hand. The hammer struggles against the webbing for several seconds before tearing through it and launching into its owner’s hand.

“What the hell is that stuff made of?” Stark asks.

I put on my best villain voice. “You’ll never know.”

I jump through the window and take off cackling. I really hope Jameson doesn’t catch word of this moment, if only because I don’t have the photo to match the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers never expected Spider-Man's greatest power: completely derailing any conversation, especially the serious ones.


	4. Lie Through Your Teeth

The Avengers almost make me miss my graduation. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Dealing with a robbery as Spider-Man almost makes me miss graduation, but it doesn’t help that both Hawkeye and Natasha are watching me from the rooftops. Checking over my shoulder as I race to graduation to make sure they aren’t following probably doesn’t help with the almost-missing-it. But they don’t follow. For some reason, the Avengers have chosen to leave Spider-Man alone for now.

I wish the same could be said about Peter Parker.

They send Doctor Banner to my graduation. I had just stumbled my way through an awkward goodbye to Gwen, who’s apparently moving to England, when Bruce Banner stumbles up to me with all the grace of a toddler learning to walk.

“Mr Parker,” he greets, holding out his hand.

“Peter,” I correct, enthusiastically shaking his hand. “What are you doing here, Doctor Banner? I mean, not to say you can’t come to a random high school graduation, but it’s just you probably have more important things to do.”

“The team thought I’d be a little more approachable than the rest of them, which is odd given the other guy, but here we are.”

And that explains the tingling at the base of my spine.

My smile drops. “This is about the hammer, isn’t it?”

“Tony might be a little obsessed with figuring out why two people who seem to hate both each other and him are worthy when he’s not. I’m sure it’ll pass over eventually.”

“I don’t hate anyone,” I say. “I don’t particularly like Mr Stark, but I don’t hate him.”

“And Spider-Man?”

I pause for a moment like I’m putting things together and don’t know exactly what he’s talking about. “So Spider-Man can lift Thor’s hammer too? I bet Jameson would hate that if he ever found out. He overheard someone from school mentioning that I could, and practically threw a fit over taking ‘the highest honour one could be bestowed’ lightly and joking about it. I’m still half-sure whatever magic the hammer’s imbued with was malfunctioning.”

“Wait, so do you or do you not hate Spider-Man? Because when we tried asking him about you to figure out the whole worthiness thing, it seemed like you don’t get along at all.”

I shrug. “That’s probably because we make each other’s lives more difficult. I don’t hate Spider-Man, but I’ll never be a fan.”

Not after Gwen and her father.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m pretty sure the reason has nothing to do with my supposed worthiness, Doctor Banner sir.”

“Call me Bruce.”

I mentally dance around and do at least ten backflips. Outwardly, I swallow heavily and nod. “Well, Bruce, I don’t know what to tell you. Apparently, I can pick up Thor’s hammer. I’m not sure why and I can’t help you with figuring it out. And, as big of a fan of you as I am, I don’t understand why the Avengers are suddenly obsessed enough with a random high school graduate to send you to talk to me. In fact, if this is all you’re here for, I’d really like to go back to celebrating with my friends and family.”

Bruce nods. “Right, well, I’ll let you do that. I just…” He sighs. “You know you’re not normal, right?”

My senses flare. “Because I can lift some magic hammer?”

“You graduated second of your class, and as far as I can tell, that’s only because your attendance was rocky at the beginning of the school year. Tony may have wanted to offer you an internship to keep a close eye on you, but I think you would thrive at SI, regardless of whether you pass some Asgardian test of worthiness or not. Just don’t underestimate yourself, Peter. You’re far from normal, and I think you’ll have no problem making a lot more than just a quarter of the advancements to the scientific community that I’ve made.”

“That’s… Uh… Thank you, Doctor Banner, I mean, Doctor Bruce, I mean, Bruce. Hearing that from you is,” I mime mind-blowing, “but if that was meant to be some recruitment drive, I stand by what I said. I really don’t have the time for an internship right now, and I really, really, don’t want to work for Stark.”

“What if you work with me instead?”

I almost say yes before I can stop myself. The opportunity to work with _the_ Doctor Bruce Banner. That’s not something you just throw away. But it also means working closely with an Avenger. It only takes one slip-up and he’ll realise that I’m Spider-Man, then all the Avengers would know, and they’re not ones for secret identities. I can’t do that to May. Or anyone close to me. Even if they did keep it to themselves, what’s stopping them from turning on me one day? I can’t-. No. I won’t let that happen.

Bruce asked me before how I can be sure that I’ll never be a fan of Spider-Man. This is exactly why.

“I’ll think about it,” I lie. 

It’s too suspicious to outright say no, but my earlier excuse holds up. I don’t have time, not with Jameson expecting me to take on so many extra hours with school over until college starts.

Bruce considers me for a moment. “Alright. I’ll let you get back to your, uh, celebrating.”

“Right, yeah. Bye, Bruce.”

“Goodbye, Peter.”

At least I won’t have to deal with being approached by the Avengers anymore.

*

I slam the door in the face of Steve Rogers and kick it for good measure. May calmly hands me a cookie. I stuff the whole thing in my mouth and march away from the front door. They’ve been at this for the past two days. I haven’t been able to leave the house without an Avenger popping out of the shadows to ask ‘casual’ questions about my life, couldn’t even give a proper goodbye to Flash, who’s going out-of-state for college, before Stark showed up. Bruce is thankfully the only one not involved in this Peter Parker stalking mission. I think Steve is starting to feel a little guilty after I just screamed at him so much that the neighbours started popping their heads out their doors to investigate.

I just screamed at Captain America. Why is this my life?

I sag against the wall and slide to the ground, knees pulled tight against my chest. May sighs and sits next to me, plate of cookies between us. She doesn’t speak, just offers an arm to wrap around me. I bury my head against her shoulder.

“Why are they doing this?” I ask, my voice muffled.

“People fear what they don’t understand.”

I pull away. “They’re the Avengers! What’s there to fear about me?”

“I think they’re a little worried about you, honey. To them, you’re a stranger who also happens to be both a genius and can wield a very dangerous weapon.”

“But I would never use Thor’s hammer without his express permission. He’s an alien Prince!”

“They don’t know you, Peter.”

I throw my head back against the wall. “And they don’t trust me.”

“It probably doesn’t help that the last man you interned with turned out to be a supervillain.”

“Aunt May!”

She smiles. “What? It’s true, Peter. Honestly, I don’t know how you get yourself into these situations. First with Doctor Connors, and now with the Avengers.”’

“Parker luck,” I explain with a wry smile.

She shakes her head. “You can’t blame everything on some silly joke your dad used to say.”

I clasp my chest. “But that would make my whole life a lie. If it’s not Parker luck, then what greater power has gotten me into all these messes?”

“It does have a name, a name as worthy as the gods themselves.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. The root of all your spectacularly ridiculous situations is named … Peter Benjamin Parker.”

I groan. “Rude, Aunt May. That’s just rude.”

“Alas, the truth cannot always be kind, though my favourite nephew always is. Perhaps that’s why he is judged worthy by Thor’s fabled hammer Mjölnir.”

“You realise we wouldn’t have an Avenger at our door constantly if I hadn’t picked that stupid hammer up?”

“You’re just trying to guilt me into saying that I should’ve let you skip that field trip.”

“None of this would have happened if you had.”

May moves to stand. I immediately help her up.

“Maybe you’re right, Peter. But whether you picked that hammer up or not, you still would have been worthy. Instead of treating it like a curse, try being at least half as proud of yourself as I am right now. Maybe then, the Avengers would stop worrying about that one kid from Queens who doesn’t want to be able to lift Thor’s hammer.”

Someone knocks at the door, short and sharp, so most probably Stark. I sigh. May ruffles my hair and heads upstairs.

She may be right, but still, this is beyond ridiculous now. I’m tempted to get a restraining order against the Avengers. Too bad no lawyers would ever take my case. There’s probably some stupid clause in that NDA they made us sign for the field trip that any who pick up Mjölnir agree to be stalked and harassed by Earth’s Mightiest Jerks.

I close my eyes against the sunlight as I open the door with enough force to almost pull it off its hinges.

“For the love of science, Stark! The next Avenger you send my way just because I picked up Thor’s stupid hammer is going to get a face full of door!”

“Peter?” a familiar voice asks.

I open my eyes. “Harry? You’re back?”

He smiles. “Sounded like you needed me to bail you out of trouble again, Parker. Looks like I’m right.”

I hug Harry Osborn for the first time in years. “You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be pulling some events from Amazing Spider-Man 2, but they won't be sticking to canon.


	5. Hide in the Shadows

May pulls Harry into a similarly long hug when she comes downstairs. Harry goes stiff for a few seconds before hugging her back, whispering “I’m sorry about Ben.”

“I’m sorry about your father.”

Shivers run down my spine, and not the Spidey kind.

“What?”

Harry sighs as he escapes May’s grip. “We should probably sit down. It’s going to a long conversation.”

I retrieve the plate of cookies. “My bedroom?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll deal with any other Avengers,” May says.

I hesitate on the stairs. “You don’t have to.”

“This is my home too, Peter, and I will not have anyone constantly knocking on my door, no matter how many aliens they’ve fought.”

“Thanks, Aunt May.”

“You boys give a shout if you need anything.”

Harry smiles. “Thank you, Mrs Parker.”

“Harry Osborn,” May warns.

“Sorry, May.”

“Better.”

Harry follows me up to my room, where my desk is thankfully free of prototype webshooters and other incriminating tech. Instead it’s covered in sketches of Mjölnir, including measurements, presumed mass based off a bunch of textbooks on Norse mythology and dense theoretical metals not found on Earth, and even more piles of research on the interpretation of the worthiness enchantment on the hammer.

“Someone’s obsessed,” Harry comments drily, as I shut the door behind us.

“I’ve had the Avengers investigating me because they can’t figure it out. I thought that if I provided them with a logical explanation of why I can somehow lift Mjölnir, then they’ll leave me alone.”

“You’re trying to find a scientific explanation of why you can lift a magic space hammer?” Harry shakes his head, while he leaves through my sketches and calculations. “Only you, Peter.”

I almost start into my current theory that the enchantment somehow changes the mass of the hammer depending on who’s wielding it before I remember what May said.

“You’re not in New York because of me, are you?”

Harry stills. “To be fair, I was making preparations to surprise you at your graduation before I got the call.”

“Your father?”

“Died the day I got here. I’ve been trapped in Oscorp meetings with a bunch of assholes who think I’m too young to be a CEO since. Only noticed what day it was this morning.” He turns to me. “Sorry I missed it, Pete.”

I shrug. “Almost missed it myself. Long story. I definitely blame the Avengers though.”

“What was up with your greeting by the way? It’s rare to see you that angry without Flash riling you up.”

I let the subject move away from Oscorp and sit on my bed. “We’re actually friends now. He was a big help after Ben.”

Harry sits next to me. “Sorry I couldn’t be there for…”

“You were living on another continent, Harr. It’s fine. Besides, I wasn’t great to be around at the time. Angry enough to scare the crap out of Flash at least. More so than I am at Stark right now.”

He scoffs. “You really think I would’ve been scared by an angry Peter Parker? Please, you’re a sunshine child compared to me on my best days.”

“Not a kid.”

“No, you can lift the mighty Thor’s hammer now. You’re definitely a fully-fledged adult. Beware the Mighty Parker and his greatest power, the puppy dog eyes.”

I shove Harry’s shoulder. “Shut up, Osborn.”

“What are you going to do? Call your new best friends the Avengers?”

I groan. “You have no idea how much I don’t like them right now. Except Bruce. He’s alright.”

“Bruce? You’re calling Doctor Bruce Banner, the man you literally have a poster of right behind us, by his first name?”

“He told me I could, right around asking me to intern under him at Stark Industries.”

Harry’s smile drops. “When did this happen?”

“Graduation. Bruce was sent there by Stark.”

“And what did you say?”

“I’d think about it, but I was sort of lying. I don’t want to work for a company owned by Stark.”

“Even if it meant working for your hero?”

I sigh and lie back. “I mean, maybe I would’ve if it weren’t for this hammer business, but… Listen, Harry, if I tell you all this, you’ve got to promise to not overreact.”

Harry folds his arms. “Since when do I overreact?”

“You once got someone fired because they made me spill my ice-cream.”

“They should’ve been watching where they were going.”

“They didn’t even work for Oscorp, Harry. Just a random person on the street. It wasn’t even a big deal either, because you marched us right back over to the truck and ordered me another.”

“I’m failing to see the point.”

“Promise me, Harry.”

Harry turns on my bed to face me properly and crosses his legs. “Fine.”

I scoot up and lean against the wall, my legs stretched out. “Right, so the day I lifted Mjölnir, I may not have eaten since lunch the day before,” I start.

“And you claim I’m the one incapable of caring for myself.”

“Anyway,” I say loudly before continuing the story, leaving out the I’m Spider-Man parts, but mentioning that the arachnid-themed hero was called in for questioning about Peter Parker because of the whole photographer deal.

Harry holds up his hand, cutting me off. “You mean to say that all those pictures of Spider-Man are yours?”

“Well, yeah, but-.”

“Peter, I’ve seen how close some of those shots are to battles. Have you seriously been putting yourself that close to danger to score some good shots?”

“The camera has a remote,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

“The camera has a remote, okay. Just don’t tell anyone, but some of those pictures would be impossible to get with me behind the camera. Sometimes, and I mean only sometimes, I set the camera up and take pictures when Spider-Man or whoever he’s fighting line up properly. I’m reckless, but I’m not that reckless.”

I’m way too busy being Spider-Man to take photos manually.

Harry folds his arms. “So you’re not best buds with New York’s newest hero?”

“Why does everyone keep thinking that? We don’t even like each other.”

“The Avengers still tried using him to find more information out on you thought, after Stark already cyber-stalked you?” Harry asks, that all-too familiar protectiveness creeping up in his tone.

“Bruce also may have admitted that Stark mainly wanted me to take an internship there, so he could keep an eye on me. Plus, there are the various Avengers turning up at my door for the past two days, randomly asking me questions about my life whenever I leave, and Stark ruining my goodbye to Flash who’s leaving the state for college.”

Harry smiles suddenly, that ‘I would definitely be sorted into Slytherin the second the Sorting Hat touched me’ kind of smile. “And Stark is aware that you’re best friends with me, right?”

“Yes?”

“Interesting.”

“Remember that you promised not to overreact, Harry.”

“You know, I think we’ve both been kept indoors too much as of late. I never really got a chance to explore the city to see what’s changed since I left. You’ll just have to show me.”

I point a finger at him. “I know what you’re doing, but I’m letting you anyway because I missed you.”

Harry slings an arm around my shoulders. “No idea what you’re talking about, Peter.”

I stuff a cookie in my mouth and keep pointing my finger at Harry. He just laughs and takes a cookie for himself.

*

We spend the entire afternoon wandering around the city, Harry complaining about how corrupt Oscorp is, and me taking pictures of his grumpy face to make him smile. And the rant I set off by mentioning my short internship there, well, that lasts an hour. Not only is Harry mad that he found out about it from me through an email, and not say, from one of the many people who report to him and are aware of our friendship, but also the fact that Doctor Connors ended up being a supervillain, which a teenaged intern managed to recognise happening, but none of the many scientists that worked alongside him.

“They weren’t directly involved with the tests, so it’s not like they would’ve noticed the mutations in the rats,” I say.

“You’re telling me that nobody else ever went into his lab? That none of the security personnel saw him perform unsafe, unapproved human experiments outside of a controlled environment? I don’t know if that’s worse or the fact that I know my father was behind the scenes, pushing for the tests to be rushed.”

I grip his shoulder. “Come on, Harry. You can’t know that for sure.”

“I knew my father, Peter. He only cared about himself. Any signs otherwise were just means to get what he wanted. It’s because of him that I have such a mess of a company to deal with, too busy trying to cure himself to worry about what was happening right under his nose. I wouldn’t put it past him to have been encouraging the kind of unethical projects I’ve been shutting down for the past week.”

I squeeze his shoulder before letting go. “I bet your board isn’t happy with that.”

Harry laughs. “They’ve been trying to get rid of me from day one, but I’ve got a team of lawyers separate from Oscorp that are ready for when the board’s efforts actually start affecting my position.”

“Only a team? I thought the great Osborn Heir needed at least an army.”

“Sometimes a team is all you need to defeat an army. Just look at the Avengers, when they’re not stalking innocent high school graduates.”

Harry takes that moment to gesture to the all-too-familiar tower we’ve reached. Turns out I should’ve been paying more attention to where we were going.

“Why are we at Avengers Tower?” I ask, while Harry leads us inside.

“I have a meeting with Tony Stark.”

I duck my head as people hold their phones up to Oscorp’s new CEO stalking through the lobby on a warpath.

“And why I am I here with you?”

“The meeting concerns you.”

“You realise this is the exact opposite of don’t overreact about it, right?”

Harry glares at the security personnel until we’re led to an important looking elevator. His glare drops once the doors close. “He invaded your privacy over a hammer, Peter. I’m hardly the one overreacting.”

“You promised.”

“Overreacting would involve publicly ruining the reputation of all the Avengers. All I’m doing is handling the situation.”

I snap a picture of Harry and show him the photo. “You see this face? This is the face of someone who doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘handling the situation’ in a way that meets the Peter Parker Approved Standard of Not Overreacting.”

The elevator doors open. Harry steps through. I rush to follow.

“Peter, trust me in this, okay. If I can handle a civil conversation with an idiotic board of directors, then I can handle a civil conversation with Tony Stark.”

“I do trust you, Harry. I trust that you’ll always look out for me because you’re a good friend, but I don’t think I’m worth-.”

Harry stops suddenly and whirls around. “You are worth it, Peter Parker. I wasn’t even surprised that you lifted that hammer. If anyone would pass a test of worthiness, it’d be you. Trust me on that.”

I duck my head. “Okay.”

*         

“It’s weird to be in here without most the Avengers,” I mumble, while we wait in Stark’s office.

Harry stiffens at that. “I will not kill Tony Stark,” he mutters under his breath like a mantra.

Stark enters the room, an amused smile on his face. “Osborn, shouldn’t you be running a company?”

“Shouldn’t you be out stalking teenagers? Oh, wait. That would be illegal, wouldn’t it?”

“Harry,” I warn, slapping his arm.

Stark looks at me properly as he passes us and sits in his chair. “Mr Parker, I’ll have you know that you upset Cap’s feelings. He’s been tearing through punching bags since he got back.”

“Maybe that’s how Captain Rogers deals with his guilt,” Harry snaps.

“Now, now, Osborn. I know that Mr Parker has his own sharp tongue if you’d let him out of your shadow for a moment.”

I grip Harry’s wrist before he can punch Stark. “You promised,” I say lowly.

Harry turns his glare on me. I meet it with my own. Harry looks away first.

“Sorry.”

I release his wrist. “I know.”

“I should’ve grabbed popcorn,” Stark comments.

Harry puts on his ‘Osborn Heir’ face. “We’ve come to discuss your unwarranted interest in and subsequent harassment of Mr Parker as of late.”

Stark leans back in his chair. “The kid lifted Thor’s hammer. Do you really expect us not to be interested in that?”

“There is a very clear difference between being interested in an individual and stalking them, Mr Stark.”

“I haven’t been stalking anyone.”

“You and your team have been continually attempting to contact Mr Parker at his home, and whenever he leaves it over the past forty-eight hours, after your failed attempt to bribe him into joining Stark Industries using a man you know he idolises, a one Doctor Bruce Banner. These attempts at contact have all been rejected by Mr Parker on each occasion, with him repeatedly asking you to stop and repeating that he does not know why he can lift an Asgardian weapon. Said weapon, he was instructed to lift by you and your team at an earlier date, prompting your unsolicited interest in him when he succeeded.

“Mr Parker has every right to rebuff your attempts at identifying why he fits the unknown criteria of this alien weapon, especially after you invaded his privacy in such a way that breaches any agreement signed by Mr Parker on his school field trip permission form. Even if you were able to prove that Mr Parker’s ability to lift this weapon constitutes him as a threat, you should remember that he clearly expressed that he did not want such an ability nor to test whether he had it. In fact, there are multiple witnesses to confirm that Mr Parker did not want to attend a field trip into this building in the first place, including your own security footage, as he stated the fact during the field trip in question.”

Harry stares Stark down while I look on in shock. I know he’s been training for this his whole life, but it’s still odd to see Harry go full CEO mode.

“Do you really think anybody’s going to risk messing with the legality of Avengers business?”

“Do you want to see how stalking the best friend of your rival company’s CEO goes over in court, or are you going to give Peter Parker his formal apology and drop all further attempts to invade his privacy?”

Stark holds Harry’s glare for a minute straight before he leans forward.

“Fine,” Stark says, turning to me. “Banner’s offer still stands. I won’t be involved in that internship at all if it helps. You’d never even see the rest of the Avengers.”

Harry opens his mouth. I shake my head.

“Make it a paid internship that works with my hours, especially when I need to go take photos of Spider-Man midbattle for my Bugle job, and that doesn’t involve signing a waver to have physicals done. I don’t trust SI to not see if there’s some biological reason I can lift Mjölnir.”

Harry smiles at me like he’s proud. I smile a little back.

“You’ll have that formal apology and terms of your employment by the end of the week.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Stark,” Harry says.

“Good luck with Norman’s mess,” Stark says, making Harry twitch slightly.

“At least I’ve already started at turning my father’s company around instead of waiting to have its faults shoved in my face.”

I roll my eyes and grab Harry’s arm. “Bye, Mr Stark. Let’s go, Harry.”

Harry glares at Stark one last time before following.

“That went surprisingly well,” he says, as we enter the elevator.

“At least now I know why you brought me along, and it wasn’t because of the internship.”

Which I would’ve been stupid to reject a second time. At least now it’s under my terms.

“What can I say, Peter? You keep me in check.”

“How did you survive Europe without me?”

“It’s a mystery to the best of us,” Harry says. “Want ice-cream?”

“Only if it doesn’t end up with someone losing their job.”

“I was ten at the time, Parker. You can’t keep using that as an example.”

“I don’t know why you seem to think that your age somehow makes that less of an example.”

Harry shrugs. “Worth a try.”

I roll my eyes. “Good to have you back, Harr.”

“Good to be back, Pete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Harry does have his father’s illness, and he does know (found out the same way as canon). He’s just not telling Peter yet because he’s still processing.


	6. Run Like the Wind

“Bruce, I have a question.”

He snaps out of his sciencing zone and looks between me and the arc reactor in confusion. “Weren’t you going to try pulling that apart?”

“What? No, I’m already done with that. I wanted to know-.”

“You gave up?” Bruce asks, disbelief in his voice and face.

I shake my head. “I finished with that an hour ago. Pulled it apart, streamlined the design to increase the power output by 5% and put it back together. Obvious problem solved. Congrats to Tony Stark for giving me a faulty reactor. Anyway, I wanted to-.”

“There wasn’t meant to be a design fault.”

“Huh. I guess Mr Stark got too caught up in creating a new element that he didn’t have the time to think about the casing properly. We’ve all been there. Not the creating an element thing, but the getting distracted by the more intensive task thing. Back to my point about the question. I was wondering whether the holo-table is patented by SI, or if I could recreate it at home.” I sling my hands through the holograms and bring up my improved design of the arc reactor. “Cause having something like this at home would be a serious dream come true.”

“And you figured out how to use the table without asking. You realise that’s most intern’s first question, right?”

I shrug. “I mean, I researched a bit of the theory behind realistic holo-tech when I was bored after a Star Trek marathon one time, so it wasn’t too difficult to figure out.”

Bruce has gone really pale. “I need to sit back down.”

I rush to help him. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m not about to transform into a big green rage monster if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Well, no. More that if you feel like you can move out of the sterile lab before throwing up or not. I really don’t want to think about the clean-up involved with gamma radiation mixed with vomit. No offense. If you don’t feel like you can leave the lab first, that’s fine. Your comfort matters first.”

Bruce is giving me that look May gives me sometimes: complete confusion mixed with fondness.

“I’m not feeling nauseous, Peter, just a little shocked.”

I grin. “Oh, and you know that pesky little fault of exploding under too much pressure? It was kind of annoying me, so I fixed it.”

“You fixed the reactor’s biggest flaw because it was annoying you?”

“Yep. So, could you please find out whether the holo-tech is patented?”

“I’ll see if I can get you the blueprints as well.”

I wave it off. “No need. I already recreated them for fun. What did you think I was doing for the last hour? Well, I say hour, but really that took twenty minutes. Recreating a miniature version has been taking up all my time.”

“Is it alright if I bring Tony down here to look at the arc reactor?”

“As long as he doesn’t mention the whole Mjölnir thing.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Kay.”

I wander back to my bench and keep working on my newest project, the tingling in my spine giving me all the warning I need before Stark walks in. I can feel his eyes on me, even when he walks over to Bruce’s side of the lab.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“After increasing the arc reactor’s power output by 5% and removing ‘that pesky little fault of exploding under too much pressure’, Peter asked me whether the holo-table is patented, and if not, if he could recreate it at home, not to worry about providing him the blueprints though because he already worked it out.”

Stark turns to me. “And what’s he working on right now?”

I answer. “Portable version of the holographic display that I could theoretically build into my phone, unless that’s a no on the patent, in which case, I’m definitely adding it to my phone.”

“Stark Phones already have a basic version,” he says.

I shrug. “Can’t afford one of those, easier to make it.”

“I cannot possibly express how much I regret alienating you right now.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, I can use this tech. Thanks, Mr Stark.”

“And we’re sure his highest level of education is high school?”

“I start college in the new semester.”

“MIT?”

“Empire State. MIT offered a full-ride scholarship, but I didn’t want to leave New York for that long, not with May, Harry, and my job being here.”

And especially not as Spider-Man.

Stark hits his head against the table. Bruce laughs.

“Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll make sure he’s not held back as much here as he’ll be at college.”

My phone goes off. “Got to run. There’s a situation downtown and chances are Spider-Man will be there. See you later, Bruce.”

“Bye, Peter.”

I grab my bag, consider the holo-tech for a moment and leave it on the bench, before rushing out of the lab. Don’t want to rebuild it if this backpack gets stolen or blown up or both. It’s happened before.

“Do you think we could build a time machine to the day he picked up that hammer? I want to hit myself repeatedly,” Stark says after I leave.

“You’d create a paradox.”

“Damn.”

*

That situation downtown turns out to involve several explosions, a collapsed subway and a group of gangsters straight out of the 1920s. I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually were time travellers considering everything else New York has thrown at me so far. Regardless of whether they’re the real deal or not, I leave them webbed up in one of the less exploded stations, not sure which, and venture back through the tunnel to dig out the train stuck under an actual ton of rubble.  
If my suit weren’t already red, it would be now after that fight. Avoiding the bullets was one thing, but the falling bits of concrete was a little too much for this spider. I may have been slightly crushed a few times, but there are people who need my help right now, so the webbing holding my suit together will have to be enough to stop the bleeding. So glad I’ve been upping the strength and durability of my webs in my spare time. They’re the only thing keeping this tunnel from collapsing into itself.

I clear the rubble blocking the train off and tear the doors open.

“Hey, everyone. You’re all safe now. Please proceed down the tunnel in an orderly fashion. The gangsters are gone, and the rubble is secured. There’s no need to run. I’ll get you all out. If anyone is injured and cannot move, please help them if you can, or direct me to them.”

I step back to allow the stream of limping passengers to move out of the train. A few pause to thank or hug me, one guy even waving a copy of the Bugle in my face and slapping me with it. I just laugh once he moves off, too relieved from the fight being over to care. I clear off the rubble to another door, and open it to increase the flow, clinging to the ceiling of the train this time and crawling along the inside to find anyone who might be too injured to call for assistance.

The train groans and lurches suddenly. I drop to the floor.

“Everyone okay?” I shout.

I hear a smattering of affirmatives before I continue along the train, webbing any parts of the ceiling with rubble sticking through them. Passengers trudge past me, grumbling about being inconvenienced, even as blood drips down their faces. Compared to an alien invasion, this is nothing to them. I make a few stretchers out of web for those unable to walk or knocked unconscious, even a teddy bear missing its arm. Two kids solemnly lift that stretcher and trudge towards the exit with their parents. I salute them as seriously as I can with a mask covering my broad grin.

The last carriage is cut off midway by falling concrete and a giant support beam. I stumble when I crouch down to assess it, the blood loss starting to kick in. But I can hear someone moving behind it, and going outside the train to get back in is going to be harder than clearing the internal rubble. I start moving the smaller bits of concrete first and web the ceiling in key places, so it doesn’t crumble into itself when I move the larger pieces.

“Think you could move back from the rubble?” I call.

I hear a soft yes and some more shuffling.

“How many are you?” I ask.

“Three. My friend knocked her head really hard though. She’s not waking up.”

“You’ll all be out and to the paramedics in no time. Just keep back when I start moving this and yell out if you need me to stop for whatever reason. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I get through most of the concrete, web the support beam to ten different points in the carriage, only half the ceiling, and slowly move the final piece blocking the way. A teenage girl is sitting on the other side cradling another teenager while a young boy hides behind them. The boy’s eyes widen at seeing me. He jumps past the teenagers and tackles my legs in a hug. I awkwardly hug him back and look to the conscious teenager.

“Are you alright to carry your friend?” I ask, needing to keep my hands free with how much this train is creaking.

“I think so,” she says, slipping her arms under her friend’s knees and back.

I help secure the unconscious teenager’s hands behind her neck and unwrap the young boy from my legs. I crouch down in front of him. 

“Do you think you can be brave right now and go ahead?” I ask him.

He nods. The girl follows him out of the carriage, while I trail behind, keeping an eye on the shifting structure of the train.

My spine stiffens. Every instinct in me screams to move. The webs holding the support beam all snap. I shoot my arms up and catch it. The weight sends me down to a crouch. This can’t just be one big beam. I risk a look around it and my stomach drops. The tunnel has completely collapsed above me, all that weight crushing down on this one beam. I should’ve used more webs. If I move now, I risk the tunnel ceiling splintering and the rest of the train being crushed too. The teenager carrying her friend looks back at me.

“Go!” I shout. “You need to go now!”

“What about you?”

I let out a strained laugh. “I’ll be fine. I’m Spider-Man.”

I won’t be fine, but neither will you if you don’t leave right now.

She hesitates until the young boy starts crying, then turns away with a sad nod.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, before limping towards the exit.

I let out a groan once they’re out of sight. Maybe I can start webbing some of this, but I don’t know if I can risk dislodging one hand enough to do that. I wait until I can’t hear anyone left on the train. Inch by inch, I web the support beam to every surface I can spot, except for a small gap that I’ll be able to leave through, making sure to cover the above rubble pressing down. The result looks like a scene right out a horror movie involving giant spiders, but it gets the job down long enough for me to dart out from under the beam, sending another burst of webs to take my place.

The beam shifts once, twice, the webs straining, but then it stills. I let out a breath of air. Pretty much every single one of my muscles feels on fire, but I still limp through the train, triple checking every crevice of each carriage to make sure nobody’s been left behind. There are no dead bodies at least, so it’s a good day. I am definitely ending it with a long, long nap once I make it home though. There’s no way I’m heading back to SI after this. That’d be like wearing a neon sign saying, ‘I’m Spider-Man’.

By the time I reach the closest station, the gangsters have already been carted away by the police, and paramedics swarm the area taking care of the train passengers. Someone spots me and starts clapping. Every single person pauses and claps too, even that guy who hit me with a copy of the Bugle. A few people try to offer me medical aid, but I wave them off and trudge upstairs, a wide smile on my face that I hope shows through the mask. There’s a giant crowd of phones, cameras and reporters on street-level. I nod to them, shoot a web at a building and take off.

*

Not five minutes later, my entire body decides enough is enough and I slam into the middle of a sidewalk.

“Ow,” I groan, curling into myself.

And because my luck is that bad, Tony Freaking Stark crouches down in front of me. “Alright, Spidey, time to quit bleeding everywhere.”

“Stark?” I slur. “What you doin’ here?”

“You swung past Avengers Tower a few minutes ago, looking like you were hanging on by sheer force of will. Banner and I tracked you down.”

Bruce? I roll over and catch concerned eyes.

How long have I been lying here? Could’ve sworn it’d only been seconds.

“Go ‘way,” I mumble.

Stark stands up suddenly. “Nothing to see here, New York, just a squished spider. Take any photos or videos and Stark Industry lawyers will know.”

“Wasn’t talking ‘bout them,” I grumble, pushing myself up and immediately collapsing.

Bruce takes my pulse and prods my body for injuries. I don’t know how many bones give, but I’d rather not think about it. I swat his hand away and force myself to at least sit against a brick wall. My head drops from the effort, the mask really not helping with that can’t breathe properly problem.

“Even I’m not as bad as this,” Stark says, standing with his arms crossed. “I’m not as bad as this, right?”

“No, Tony,” Bruce says, studying the webbing holding my suit and skin together. “I’d have to cut through the webs to see how bad the wounds are. Mask’s constricting breathing,” he mumbles under his breath.

I lurch away. “Don’t even think about it.”

“There’s more blood outside of you than there is inside!” Stark yells. “Now’s not the time to be worrying about some identity!”

“What Tony means to say is, we can’t treat you with your suit in your way, Spider-Man,” Bruce says.

“That’s fine.”

Stark reaches for my mask. I grab his wrist and try not to snap it.

“I _meant_ , that’s fine, I don’t need your help. I heal just fine on my own, thanks.”

“You’re literally sitting in a puddle of your own blood,” Stark snaps.

“I’m already feeling better than I did when I left the subway. I’ll be fine.”

“Spider-Man,” Bruce says calmly. “You need medical assistance. If left to heal on your own, your bones could mend the wrong way.”

I shrug, immediately regretting the motion. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Well, I’m not,” Stark says.

“Well, it’s not your choice, Stark.” I shoot two webs between them, hitting the building across the road. “I’m not one of your Avengers. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Why is it so hard for you to accept help?”

“Why is it so hard for you to accept that I don’t want it?” I ask back, before tugging on my webs and taking off without a glance behind me.

I am so taking at least a few days off webslinging after this. Maybe I’ll focus on assignment work for the Bugle. Jameson’s going to be pissed that I didn’t get any photos of this particular fight mid-battle, but the lighting down there was terrible. I didn’t even bother webbing my camera up. Oh crap. I have to go back for my bag as Peter Parker. I’m sure if I wish hard enough, Bruce and Stark won’t investigate the scene of the fight. If they do, I could always claim to have been hit by a stray piece of rubble and hope they don’t recognise the similar wounds.

This is the sole reason I own a hoodie these days. I swing by the house, dress my wounds, change my clothes, and grab my skateboard. The Avengers don’t know about me owning that at least. May isn’t be home yet either. I’ll go take some photos of the subway for Jameson, maybe add some webs for that Spidey aspect. It’ll be fine. Maybe then, I’ll get to sleep off the broken bones, screaming muscles, and minor lacerations. Just a normal day for your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, hiding from his bosses like anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote most of this chapter while listening to the Into the Spider-Verse score on repeat.


	7. Be Stubborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year. (50 minutes late where I am).

Dark bruises stretch across my once broken ribs. I poke them and wince before slipping a thick shirt on. I’ve perfected the limping without looking like I’m limping, even escaped May’s watchful eye. I risked an hour patrol this morning, so nobody gets any ideas about Spider-Man being out of commission. And I definitely payed for it. My shoulders were kind of okay pre-patrol. Now they’re back to a low throbbing. Wouldn’t be as much of a problem if Harry weren’t coming over for his weekly dinner with the Parkers, a tradition since he first started announcing to anyone we met that we’re best friends.

“Peter!” May calls.

I plaster on a smile and head downstairs. Harry’s already sitting at the dining table, looking more exhausted than I feel.

“Bad board meeting?” I ask, sliding into the chair next to him.

Harry tugs me into a side-hug. My ribs twinge, but I hug him back.

“Two of them weren’t involved in some form of corruption or unethical projects. Two. And I’m pretty sure that’s just because they haven’t been with Oscorp long enough.”

May serves spaghetti. “And when was the last time you had a proper meal?” she asks.

Harry smiles. “This time last week.”

I smack his arm and pull away. “You didn’t have to tell her.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker!” May scolds. “Don’t you dare encourage his bad behaviour.”

I duck my head. “Sorry, Aunt May.”

“I swear, between the two of you not eating and sleeping enough-.”

“Wait,” Harry interrupts. “What do you mean, two?”

I focus completely on eating.

“Peter claims that he eats enough, but I’ve seen him pack away a small feast when he thinks I’m not paying attention. All that running around after Spider-Man, and he doesn’t eat enough to make up for it. Don’t even get me started on how often I catch him coming home a mere two hours before his alarm goes off.”

“ _Pete_ ,” Harry says softly.

I sigh and swallow my food. “I meant it when I said I really didn’t have time for the SI internship, but it pays so well, and the opportunity to work with Doctor Banner… Did you know I streamlined the design for the arc reactor?”

“Yes, Peter. You’ve only mentioned it fifteen times.”

“Well, a little sleep is worth it.”

“And running a multi-billion-dollar company isn’t?”

May slams his fork down. “Neither of your reasons are good enough, boys.”

I groan. “We’re not kids anymore, Aunt May.”

“Adults are responsible enough to eat and sleep properly. Until you can do that, I’ll keep treating you like the boys you are.”

Harry smiles, even though his charm has never worked on May before. “We’ll both try to look after ourselves better, May. We don’t mean to worry you.”

“I’m going to worry regardless but thank you for trying to lessen that.”

“Dinner’s really nice, Aunt May,” I say, not about to be one-upped by Harry.

May shakes her head. “No need to lie to my face, Peter.”

“But it really is good,” I say around a mouthful.

May stares me down until I swallow.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

Harry laughs. I jab him with my elbow and wince at the movement. Harry stills.

“You okay, Pete?”

I rub at my bruises. “Fell out of bed this morning.”

“One week without injuring yourself,” May mutters under her breath. “That’s all I ask for.”

I smile sheepishly. “New York’s a dangerous place. Still love it.”

Getting injured saving it is definitely worth it.

*

May leaves us to our own devices while she does the dishes, despite both of us offering to do them for her. She scolds us like we’re still little kids, claiming that we don’t spend enough face to face time together alone as it is. So now Harry and I are half paying attention to the news while chatting on the worn couch.

“I should have Oscorp cleaned out by the time you’ve got your PhD. That way I can safely offer whichever job my genius best friend wants without worrying about unethical experiments happening under the same roof.”

I shake my head. “What if there’s someone better applying for the same position?”

“You already have experience working for Oscorp. You’re currently working under one of the leading scientists of the 21st Century. And, you’re a certified hardworking genius. The only reason I’m waiting for you to be academically qualified, is so I have enough time to clear out the filth Norman soaked my company in. I certainly trust you more than anyone who works for me right now.” Harry turns back to the news. “Actually, speaking of trust, there’s something important I wanted to tell-. What the hell?”

He turns up the TV.

“An anonymous tip has led us to find that teenager Peter Parker was found worthy by Thor’s legendary hammer some four weeks ago. The teen was on a pre-graduation field trip to Avengers Tower when he and his class were offered the chance of a lifetime to test their worthiness on the hammer in question. Parker lifted the hammer with ease, according to witnesses, and was then escorted away from the group by multiple Avengers. When questioned about the events that followed by classmates, Parker declined to comment.

“Doctor Bruce Banner, the Avenger known as the Hulk, was then seen at Parker’s graduation talking to the teen, presumably to offer him an internship at Stark Industries that Parker has since accepted. Some of you may be familiar with the name P. Parker, as the teen is _The Daily Bugle_ ’s main photographer of the vigilante known as Spider-Man. His association with the Avengers and Spider-Man is bizarre enough, but coupled with the fact that Parker is additionally close friends with new CEO of Oscorp, Harry Osborn, points to an obvious truth. The only thing Parker is worthy of is the title Master Manipulator, considering his association with multiple people in places of power.”

The TV turns off. May stands beside it, gripping the remote in a death-lock. “I’ll be speaking to Mr Stark in the morning.”

“It’s fine, Aunt May,” I say. “This wasn’t his fault. Someone on that field trip obviously wanted to make a quick buck after graduation and decided to spill. If it doesn’t blow over by the end of the week, I’ll talk to Bruce about it. He’s somewhat of an expert when it comes to negative press.”

I’m just glad neither of my bosses will care. Bruce will no doubt feel guilty over the mess, like he has been with the whole hammer incident, and Jameson will be happy for the extra sales of newspapers with my photo credit on the front page.

“I’ll have my team of lawyers on anyone’s case who decides to harass you for this,” Harry says lowly.

“I dealt with the Avengers stalking me. This will be a cakewalk in comparison.”

But once again it’ll mess with Spider-Man patrols. As long as it doesn’t get out that Spidey is worthy too, nobody will put it together. I’m lucky enough that the Avengers haven’t figured it out yet, but that’s probably because Peter Parker hasn’t been left alone with Natasha yet. She always came with Hawkeye when they were doing that constantly knocking on my front door thing.

Harry mutters something that sounds like curses in various languages. May doesn’t even look disapproving at the swearing while she returns to the kitchen.

“You wanted to tell me something important?” I ask Harry.

He somehow tenses even more. “Once this blows over. I promise.”

I smile. “Okay, so what else can you tell me about my future job that I have zero choice in?”

Harry relaxes. “You obviously get a choice in which job, Pete.”

“So long as it’s working for you?”

Harry slings an arm around my shoulders. “Parker, if it comes down to it, I’ll work for you. That said, you’d be a terrible CEO. Let’s face it, you’d rather spend your days in the lab and emerge only when you’ve got something to show off than attend meeting after meeting.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Let’s hope I’m wrong about how bad this mess is going to get.”

I’ve talked circles around the Avengers twice when it came to my worthiness. I doubt the public will throw anything worse at me.

*

The amount of times I’ve ended up chained to a wall with a sack on my head in the short time since I became Spider-Man is frankly embarrassing. Both for me constantly letting myself get knocked out as Spidey, and for the kidnappers who’ve apparently never heard of the term ‘original idea’. At least this time, it’s less embarrassing for me. Because this time, Peter Parker was the one kidnapped. Turns out the bad guys don’t like the idea of a random photographer/intern being able to lift some space hammer.

“This kid’s the worthy one?” Thug One asks.

“Don’t think he’s lifted anything, let alone Thor’s freaking hammer,” Thug Two says.

“I am right here,” I point out.

Thug One yanks the bag off my head. “Hold your tongue before I cut it off, kid.”

I mentally groan. “So you don’t want to know how I lifted Mjölnir then?” I ask.

“The hell’s Myolnear?” Thug Two asks.

“Mjölnir,” I correct. “The name of the hammer is Mjölnir. It’s basic Norse Mythology.”

Thug One draws a pistol. My Spidey Sense flares, but I can’t escape without revealing my strength.

He trains the gun on my left leg. “You want to keep giving us cheek, kid?”

I strain against the chains. They’re too strong for a normal person.

“You kidnapped me on my way to work. I’m obviously not a kid,” I snap against my better judgement.

Thug One shoots.

I scream.

He fires at my other leg.

The chains strain as I bite back another shout.

Thug Two laughs. “Can’t even take a couple of bullets. He’s not worthy.”

Thunder cracks, echoing through the old factory.

I laugh. “Oh, you’ve got it coming now.”

Thug One backs up a little. “He must be losing it.”

“He’s just messing with you,” Thug Two says, aiming his gun at my stomach. “One more should-.”

“THUNDER!” A familiar guitar plays. “THUNDER!” The guitar again. “THUNDER!” Guitar and another strike. “THUNDER!”

“What the f-?” Thug One starts, as two Avengers crash through the ceiling.

“I WAS CAUGHT-”

Stark switches his speakers off and aims a gauntlet at a thug each. “Let the intern go.”’

Thor spins his hammer. “You have hurt the wrong mortal.”

Thug One and Two drop their guns. Thor knocks them out with Mjölnir anyway. Stark drops his faceplate and darts forward.

“You okay, Parker?”

I pointedly look at my bleeding legs. “Great, Mr Stark. Would probably be better if you hadn’t dragged me away from that field trip in the first place, but I’ll live.”

He blasts the chains. I flop to the floor.

Shoulders, ow. Ribs, very ow. Legs, oh my god, why?

“Sparky, give me a hand here. Kid needs to get back to Banner.”

I lurch away from the billionaire. “No, thanks.”

“You have two bullet holes there, Parker. You need help.”

I pat the back of my legs. “Damn, no exit wounds.”

“Exactly, so unless you want to dig them out yourself-.”

“Good idea. I’ll go do that.”

Stark turns to Thor. “Is a prerequisite of worthiness stubbornly refusing medical aid?”

“Stubbornness does appear to be a common trait,” Thor observes.

“Glad we can agree,” I say, using the wall to push myself to my feet. “Now, if that’s all sorted, I would really like to go home now.”

Before my healing factor can set in and completely ruin my life.

Stark grabs my arm. “No. I get that we kind of ruined your life, Parker, but the least you can let us do is treat you for the injuries you wouldn’t have gotten if it weren’t for us.”

“Seeking aid that has been freely offered does not make you weak,” Thor says.

“Not the problem, Prince Thor, sir, but thanks for the advice. I trust Bruce just fine, but…” I take a breath and yank my arm back from Stark. “Not the rest of you. Sorry. I’ll cart myself into an emergency room somewhere. Promise.” Not really. “But I’m not going back with you.”

The longer we argue, the more the wounds close up and the harder it’s going to be to dig the bullets out. But I _can’t_ say that.

Stark clenches his jaw. “Fine. But you bring in a medical certificate of a doctor clearing you before you come back to SI.”

Or I could just forge one.

“Fine.”

I use the wall to limp away, my legs burning with every step.

“And Parker, do something like this again and I’ll drag your ass into medical screaming if I have to.”

You’re welcome to try.

Stark takes off, not even bothering to properly deal with the thugs. Just like an Avenger not to care about clean up. I scowl and keep trudging through the dark. A large hand clamps down on my shoulder. I almost end up on the ceiling. Thor studies me silently.

“Sorry everyone knows that I’m worthy too,” I mumble.

“I am not concerned with that,” he says. “Banner would help you without telling Man of Iron.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I really don’t need it.”

“It is my understanding that normal mortals are not so accustomed to being shot by your guns.”

I shrug and immediately wince. “I don’t like hospitals. If I can deal with an injury myself then I will. No need to hassle someone else.”

“You are strong, Parker Son. But you are also wrong.”

He claps my shoulder, aggravating the muscles, and flies off with the stupid hammer that started this mess. Webslinging is so much better than flying anyway. Not that I’ll be doing any of that any time soon. Being hurt sucks. At least Thor didn’t figure it out. For a second there… Nah. Stark was probably closer. Alright, think happy thoughts. Nobody knows. There definitely isn’t a bullet in each of my legs. Pain’s just that distant friend I see every couple of years or so, not a constant companion that outdoes itself every single time.

I hope May doesn’t kill me for getting hurt again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to more consistent updates in 2019.


	8. Walk the Thin Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that moment when you promise more frequent updates and your wrist injuries get even worse? Yeah, hopefully it won't take an almost month for the next chapter.

Bruce is the worst. I get that most people don’t stroll into work a week after being shot multiple times, but does that really mean he gets to hover the exact same way May’s been doing? Did the two of them take classes in seeming to hover right over my shoulder despite being on the other side of the room and ‘not’ looking at me? It’s unnerving. I had to actually take a proper lunch break today to escape. So of course, Parker Luck has to kick in when I get back and Bruce is talking to Steve Rogers.

I peak over Bruce’s shoulder to see why another Avenger’s in the lab. “Huh, so enhanced healing factors look kind of similar,” I comment, fake limping to my table.

“You recognise the genetic code for a healing factor?” Bruce questions, while Steve stands next to him, doing a very bad job at subtly gaping.

I shrug. “That’s what I worked on with Doctor Connors. Though that was cross-species genetic splicing, rather than a chemical-based mutation. I imagine your own healing factor would look slightly different from both.”

So would mine.

Steve clears his throat. “Speaking of injury recovery, I wanted to discuss your recent kidnapping.”

As opposed to any of my not-so-recent kidnappings?

“I’m pretty sure there’s a queue for that, Captain Rogers. You’d be behind Harry, my aunt May, Mr Stark, Prince Thor, Bruce, and everyone in New York who wants to know what it’s like to attract the attention of the Avengers. At least now, I can honestly answer ‘a pain in my ass’, though thighs would be more accurate.”

Steve folds his arms, full ‘Captain America is Disappointed’ face on. “I want to know why you refused medical attention after getting seriously injured in the field.”

I hold back a laugh. “The field? Two thugs chaining me up, so they could figure out what exactly makes me worthy and shooting me doesn’t really count as being ‘injured in the field’. I’m not a solider, Captain. And I don’t trust Mr Stark to not take the opportunity of my blood spilling everywhere to test what makes me worthy. The man was obsessed with finding out to the extent that he had the Avengers literally stalk me. He’s just as bad as the thugs who kidnapped me. Is it really any wonder that I chose to stumble away on an adrenaline high instead of sticking around to be an experiment?”

“I wouldn’t have let Tony near you,” Bruce says.

“Guess I’ll know that for the next time I get shot. At least the random people on the street just throw things at my head to ‘test my worthiness’. Bullets hurt a little more.”

“Yet you walked both off,” Steve says.

He is getting way too close to the Spidey-Secret for comfort.

“What other choice do I have? I can either keep hoping that New York will forget about me and take whatever the city throws my way, or I can lock myself in my room and put _my_ life on hold because of some cursed hammer. I spiralled into a dark enough place after my uncle was murdered, Captain. I’d rather not put the people I love through that again.” I pull out my latest project. “Now, if you’re done interrogating me, like you all promised to stop doing, I have a low-cost deployable shield to design for emergency service vehicles during a villain attack.”

“He’s hiding something,” Steve whispers to Bruce.

I keep my head down and force my hands to unclench. Normal people can’t hear whispering across a lab. Normal people wouldn’t react.

“I know, but we lost the right to investigate after how Tony did it.”

Never mind what I thought before. Bruce is the best.

*

I thought my powers were out of control when I first got them. I’ve got nothing on this guy. Max looks pretty damn scared. The screaming New Yorkers aren’t helping.

“C’mon, guys. Remember the spider rule. He’s more scared of you than you are of him. So, just back off a bit, would you?” I web a barrier around us. “Okay, Max, run me through how you ended up this way real quick, and I’ll see if I can help a friend out.”

A stray bolt shoots my way. I dance to the side.

“They didn’t care!” Max shouts, sparks shooting off him. “They didn’t notice it was my birthday. They made me stay back anyway.”

“It’s your birthday? Happy Birthday, man.”

“You care? Spider-Man cares about me?”

“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we? Tell me what happened to you, and I’ll be able to help.”

“Oscorp. I work at Oscorp. They stole my designs. They did this to me! It’s their fault! They are my enemy!”

Electric bolts whip around Max.       

“Look man, I get it. I didn’t exactly ask to be genetically altered by Oscorp either. They kind of suck, especially in their accident prevention protocols. But you know what? That doesn’t mean we have to take our anger out on others that have nothing to do with this. I learned that the hard way, lost someone I love because of it. So how about you come with me, and we figure out how to help you control your new powers without risking hurting anyone? You could be a hero.”

“Like you?”

I try to make my smile clear through the mask. “Like me. Or maybe better, who knows?”

“I could be like Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, man.”

Another stray bolt whips out. “Okay, okay, Spider-Man.”

Every single nerve in my body tingles. Son of a-.

I jump in the way of the danger, shoving Max to the ground, my vision whiting out as pain tears through my shoulder. I whirl around and send a web with my good arm in the direction of the sniper before dropping to the ground.

“Hey, Asshats! Quit shooting at me all the damn time!” I yell, turning to Max who looks about to lose control again. “Don’t worry, Max. Cops have a grudge against spiders. I won’t let them take that out on you.”

“Y-you took a bullet for me.”

“Yeah, guess I did.”

My senses flare again as something crashes into the ground in front of me.

“What the hell? Thor?”

The Asgardian groans, as he clambers to his feet. “You called Mjölnir, Man of Spiders. I was still holding on.”

“Sorry, definitely didn’t mean that. Unexpectedly getting shot must’ve been too much danger for my senses to handle.” I force myself to stand. “Hey, think you could help a worthy-buddy out? My friend Max here’s struggling with his new electricity-based powers. Maybe you could help him get some control over them as a favour to me, as like owing you Thor a favour, not the rest of the Avengers.”

Thor surveys the damage to the square and turns to Max. “It will be a pleasure to help another child of lightning.”

I pat Thor’s huge freaking biceps with a bloody hand. “Thanks, man. I’mma go bleed in an alley or something, maybe on a roof if I’m feeling classy.”

“Spider-Man?” Max calls.

I spin on my heel. “Do you trust me, Max?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re Spider-Man.”

“Well, Thor here’s going to help you out, so you can be a hero. Remember?”

“A hero like Spider-Man?”

“Yeah. I’ll check in with you soon as I can. Promise.”

“A hero like Spider-Man,” he mumbles to himself.

I give him a thumbs up and shoot a web at a building, saluting the NYPD on my way up. I really, really, wish that people would stop shooting me so much. Repairing the suit is going to be a pain. And I’m getting sick of digging out bullets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I got the right balance of obsessed/unstable for Max/Electro.


	9. Cover Your Tracks

It was an accident. I honestly should have never come across this. If I were literally any other person but me, I never would’ve found it. But I am Peter Parker, intern to Doctor Bruce Banner, best friend to Harry Osborn, photographer for _The Daily Bugle_ , and crime-fighting spider-themed superhero. And thanks to that, I’m staring at a sample of Spider-Man’s blood in the middle of Avengers Tower. I really, really wish this wasn’t here of all places. How could I be so naïve? Of course Stark would get some of my blood. I’ve been bleeding all over the city. It’s really not that hard to get some fresh samples, however contaminated they might be.

If I didn’t have access to most of these labs, I wouldn’t have found it. If Harry hadn’t decided to drag me out earlier tonight for some ‘relief from those incompetent idiots’, I wouldn’t have found it. If Jameson hadn’t called demanding me to swing by work to deal with some data issues with my latest photos, I wouldn’t have found it. And if I weren’t Spider-Man, well, there’d be nothing to find. But there is a vial of my blood, there are blueprints for webshooters that come way too close to comfort to the actual design, and there is data on possible web fluid ingredients.

I don’t want to know what Stark would’ve done with all this if I hadn’t decided to swing by the tower in the middle of the night, or if I hadn’t noticed and followed the creepy looking people dressed in suits sneaking inside. Turns out they were SHIELD agents. I hope they don’t wake up with too big of a headache. Unless they knew about this and were coming to take it for themselves. If that’s the case, I hope they wake up with the Hulk of all headaches. I’m not about to let anyone get their hands on this.

I pocket the vial first, destroy the blueprints next, and then I send a virus into the system to track down and delete any current or future Spider-Man related data. Half an hour after walking into the tower, I enter the elevator to leave. I don’t have much web fluid left, and I’m not wasting it on the stairwell. Stark’s upgraded his windows since the last time I was here as Spidey, so I can’t take that way out ether. Parker luck kicks in the second the elevator doors close.

The elevator goes up.

“Sir would like a word with you,” JARVIS says.

I groan. “Any chance you could let this friendly spider go, JARVIS?” I ask.

The AI doesn’t respond.

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

The elevator stops. I jump to the ceiling. The doors open.

An arrow embeds into the wall, right where I was standing. Small sparks fly off the edge of it.

“Taser arrow. That’s one way to greet a guy,” I say, crawling along the ceiling and out. “You realise there are a bunch of SHIELD agents unconscious downstairs, right? This wasn’t meant to be a spider infestation or anything.”

All six Avengers stand before me; none of them are smiling.

“J?” Stark asks.

“Spider-Man is correct, sir. The agents had direct orders from Director Fury.”

Stark glares at Hawkeye. The archer holds up his hands.

“Don’t look at me. If Fury wanted something from the tower, he should’ve just asked Nat to get it for him.”

“Why’d you let them in, J?” Stark asks.

“I was unable to identify what their task was until they reached their destination. Spider-Man incapacitated them before I was able to alert you.”

The Avengers look to me. I shrug.

“You’re welcome? Guess we’re done here-.”

“And what exactly prompted you to bring Spider-Man to this level, JARVIS?” Stark asks.

“Destroying Stark Industries property and planting a virus within the system. I deleted it while bringing Spider-Man to this level, but I failed to recover the data it had already destroyed,” the AI answers.

Steve gives me his patented ‘Captain America is Disappointed’ stare, that would definitely work if Stark hadn’t made this necessary. Bruce just looks tired. Natasha’s expression is perfectly blank, but I’d like to think she looks mildly intrigued. Hawkeye is pouting, most probably from not getting to infiltrate the tower himself. Thor’s confused. And Stark, well, he looks kind of pissed, which is completely unfair. If either of us should be pissed, it should be me.

“You didn’t have the right, Stark,” I spit. “Be very glad that I took care of the agents, and just drop this now.”

“Escape the six of us, and we’ll drop it,” Stark says.

I look to Steve for reason, my senses forcing me to twist out of the way of a shield.

“This is an unfair fight!” I yell, snatching an arrow out of the air and tossing it aside before it explodes, blasting Stark back.

I drop to the ground as a hammer soars past me. I web the handle and fling it back the way it came, knocking Hawkeye off his perch before it returns to Thor’s hand. Natasha comes out of nowhere hitting me with moves I’ve never even heard about, even as I whirl to match her hit for hit, letting instinct fully takeover. She moves to do something with her legs and I end up on the ceiling before I can even blink, running along it to avoid blasts from Stark.

Bruce stands between me and the windows.

“Please see how crazy they’re being,” I beg, scrambling to avoid a thrown shield, arrow, and Iron Man blasts at the same time.

He sighs and walks away. “Tell me when you all stop acting like children and trying to ruin the building. I’m not letting the other guy into this mess.”

“I am literally the only one here not acting like a child!” I scream. “And I can’t even legally drink!”

That makes Steve pause. “What?”

I web his shield to his back, and him to a wall before he can think to question my slip.

I flip to the floor, webbing three different arrows in Natasha’s direction on my way down. They explode into some sort of foam that quickly solidifies.

“Sorry, spider-fam.”

Thor sends lightning my way that I narrowly backflip onto a wall to avoid. Right into an arrow that just has to taser me. I drop to the floor with a groan, yank the thing out, and web the wound closed.

“Still not as bad as that first time a cop shot me while I was trying to save the city.”

I web Hawkeye’s bow to the wall on one side of the room, and him to the floor on the other.

“And I fought a giant lizard with that wound.”

My senses go off too late as Stark clamps his arms around my neck. I shake my head, drop to the ground, and fling him over my head, tearing off his gauntlets at the same time.

“What part of proportional strength of a spider do you not get?” I ask, crushing the Iron Man gauntlets in my hands at the same time.

I stand in the middle of the room, my entire body shaking, and web fluid far too low for comfort, four out of five of the present Avengers immobilised in some way.

“So how about we call it a draw and let the innocent spider go?”

Thor laughs. “You fight well, Man of Spiders.”

“Thanks, Thor. Don’t suppose you’ll let me walk, right? I mean, what’s the worst thing I’ve done? Kept a mask on? Being worthy-buddies with you?”

“Destroyed Stark Industries property,” Stark answers, still trying to stand up.

I web him to the wall. “Look, I wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t been trying to recreate something you should never have been touching. I’m one of a kind, Stark. That means no messing with my spider genes, no trying to make these beautiful shooters here, and no messing with the web fluid that is going to stick everywhere for at least another seven hours.”

“Thought you said it was two,” Steve says, struggling against the webbing.

“Had some spare time, made it stronger. If a magic space hammer can break it, clearly, it wasn’t good enough. I’ve got something to dissolve it of course, but I only offer that to people without a history of kidnapping innocent spiders.”

“You owe me, Man of Spiders,” Thor says.

Literally everyone in the room looks at him incredulously.

“You weren’t meant to tell them that,” I complain. “Also, I specified that it was just you that I owe, not the Avengers.”

“Aye, yet if I request you to let this matter rest, so long as Man of Iron vows to not investigate your tools of combat, then complying would erase you of your debt.”

If Harry knew what I was about to do, he’d rant for at least an hour. I’ll add it to the list of reasons why I can’t tell him I’m Spider-Man.

“If Stark promised that, I would’ve let it go anyway, Prince Thor,” I say. “You don’t have to cash in your favour.”

“Tony,” Steve starts.

Stark glares. Steve glares harder.

Stark groans. “Fine! I’ll stop trying to figure out the frankly suspicious Spider-Guy. Between him and Parker, we’re never going to learn what exactly makes a person worthy of that hammer.”

“This is about the hammer?” Hawkeye and I ask at the same time.

Hawkeye stops trying to cut through the webbing. “Really, Stark? You’re still on that?” he asks.

“You’re not trying to figure out what makes me Spider-Man?” I ask.

Stark hesitates.

I resist webbing him more. “Okay, that’s it. JARVIS, Thor, surely you two can see that I’m not actually in the wrong here. I’d really, really like to just go home, so…”

Thor nods. “I look forward to fighting alongside you next time.”

“No offense, but that probably won’t happen. It’s not you, it’s me. I just can’t stand a certain teammate of yours, but thanks for the sentiment,” I say, edging my way past the other Avengers and towards the elevator. “JARVIS, pretty please let me leave?”

“Sir?” the AI asks.

Natasha adds to the glaring.

“Yeah, let the kid go.”

I stop myself from flinching.

Stark chuckles. “Don’t think any of us are going to forget that you let your age slip earlier, Spidey. Not old enough to drink, huh. That certainly narrows it down.”

“Tony,” Steve warns.

“Yeah, yeah, not that I’m actively trying to figure out your identity anymore. Good luck with Nat on your trail though. Wouldn’t surprise me if she already knows.”

I make a point of not looking anywhere near Natasha to confirm that. I’m still half-terrified that the second she gets me alone as Peter Parker, she’ll figure it out. I just don’t know whether she’ll keep it to herself, tell the Avengers, or worse, tell SHIELD. If the internship weren’t every bit as awesome as I dreamed working with the Doctor Bruce Banner would be, I’d probably have quit SI by now, just to keep that extra layer of identity protection. The best I can do now, is make sure that I never slip again as Spidey and keep up my public dislike of my persona as Peter. The closer the Avengers get to the truth, the easier that second task will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while, almost four months level of a while. Injuries, final year of uni, and a general inability to maintain a proper schedule all contributed to the delay. Sorry for that. I'm back now. Figured I'd start with Unremarkable for my active fics, 'cause I needed some direct Marvel to the system after Endgame, and I really don't feel up to touching the canon MCU with a twenty-foot-pole yet. Feel free to remind me to update in the future, and I'll do my best to keep up some form of schedule. I did a grammar level edit for the entire fic before this update, so if you do feel the need to reread for context, there'll be a fewer mistakes. 
> 
> Anyway, hi. I really missed writing this.


	10. Walk Alone

The spiders were keyed to Dad’s DNA. I would’ve died when I got bitten if they weren’t. If anyone does enough research on Spider-Man’s blood, they’ll learn exactly who’s under the mask.

I haven’t slept since I found that train carriage.

“I don’t care who’s in my office. They can wait until I don’t have a day full of investor meetings.”

I scrub at my eyes and grin right as Harry opens his office door.

“Not even if they brought burgers?” I ask, holding up the bag from my spot on the back of his couch.  
Harry closes his door.

“Pete, you look like shit.”

“Says you. When was the last time you went outside?”

“Dinner at your house,” Harry answers, snatching the bag. “When’d you last sleep?”

I shrug and flip around to sit on the couch properly. “Jameson’s been hassling me for not getting a shot of Spider-Man at Avengers Tower last week. Some Stark fanboy got lucky and refused to sell to the Bugle.”

Now the NYPD seem to think Spider-Man’s somehow corrupting the ‘proper’ heroes. Patrols lately have been more exhausting than my fight with five out of six of the Avengers.

“What was my favourite hero doing at Stark’s?”

I almost drop the burger Harry passes me.

“He’s your favourite?”

“I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened to Oscorp if he hadn’t stopped Doctor Connors. All the heroes these days save the city at some point, but Spidey’s been cleaning up Oscorp’s messes better than half the people I pay to do the same. Spider-Man’s the only good thing to come out of one of our accidents. Unless someone else has been playing with cross-species genetics at our level, he’s definitely one of ours.”

And my dad was the one who bred those spiders. Harry could find that out, couldn’t he? But Dad left nothing at Oscorp about the DNA lock, so Harry can’t figure out who Spider-Man is. He’s safe.

“Who else knows?” I ask.

Harry sips his bottle. “I looked into Connors’s research myself. Figured you already knew given how closely you worked with him.”

“We only worked with the lizards, but, yeah, I put two and two together from Spider-Man’s powers.”

“Do you think his increased healing factor is anything compared to the Lizard’s?”

There’s an odd tone to Harry’s voice. I’d say it was desperation if it were anyone else, but it seems alien on Harry.

“I don’t think he’d be able to regrow limbs, if that’s what you’re asking,” I joke.

Harry laughs. “No, I was thinking on an autoimmune level. The research on our spiders was lost a while back, and whoever Spider-Man is, managed to contaminate the rest of the spiders, so we can’t reopen research on curing terminal illnesses. Of course, I would’ve made sure that whoever worked on that project had regular mental health checks and reminders of safe lab practice. I’m not letting Oscorp become a supervillain factory.”

“I don’t think cross-species genetic splicing is the way to go,” I say quietly. “There has to be another way that doesn’t risk … doesn’t risk what happened to Doctor Connors.”

“Well, we were set back pretty far, so we’re probably a lot closer with other ways regardless.”

I let out a breath of relief. “Yeah, it’s not like there are any terminal cases to worry about.”

Harry chokes on his food. Before I can even offer him his bottle, his choking turns into sharp coughs.

“You alright?” I ask, once he finally recovers.

Harry grips his bottle. “Choked a little.”

“That didn’t sound like a little choking, Harr.”

Harry takes a long sip from his bottle. “Just be glad this is water.”

“Maybe you should get some rest. You really don’t look so good.”

“Says you,” Harry retorts, but even the playful bite from before falls flat.

“You own the company, Harr. If you need to rest, they can wait for you.”

“I’m not going to get better from a little rest.”

I take in his pale skin, sunken features, and exhausted eyes that refuse to meet mine.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” I ask, afraid for the answer. “You’re sick, properly sick.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“ _Harry_.”

Harry slams his bottle onto the coffee table. “I’ll be fine, Parker.”

“Anything I can do to make that happen a little quicker, Osborn?”

He sighs. “Sorry, no. I don’t think so. Not unless-.”

Harry’s assistant bursts through the door. “Sorry, Mr Osborn, but he wouldn’t make an appointment.”

An old guy in a suit storms in and eyes us with utter contempt. “I thought CEOs of industry-leading companies didn’t waste time mingling with the common people.”

Harry pointedly stretches out on his couch. “And I thought security dealt with _former_ board members.”

“I’ve been asked in to advise on the next investor meeting. It seems that I’m not the only one concerned with your position as CEO.”

“Good thing my team of lawyers has been working around the clock to ensure that only those interested in legal business practices will be associated with Oscorp.”

“You would risk your father’s company over rumours and speculation?”

“I’m not risking _my_ company over inhumane experiments, lax safety guidelines, and potential lawsuits.”

“No, just allowing former Oscorp interns, and current Stark Industry interns into your private office, like they didn’t leave for a rival company.”

Harry laughs. I avoid eye contact with Suit Guy and keep eating.

“You’re talking about the future Head of R&D, maybe even CTO, of Oscorp. Peter Parker impressed Doctors Connors, Banner, and Stark with his work, and he hasn’t even started college yet. What have you managed? You’ve facilitated corruption, blackmailed scientists into ignoring safe practices guidelines, and gotten Oscorp into multiple legal battles. Is it really a surprise which person I’d rather have in my office?”

Suit Guy huffs and storms out the door.

Harry’s assistant frowns. “You’ve got five minutes until you have to leave for the next meeting, Mr Osborn.”

Harry tenses the moment she closes the door.

I sigh. “You’re not going to tell me what’s wrong with you, are you?”

“I will. I promise, Peter. I’ll talk to you about it next time, but…”

“No time to go into it right now?”

“You don’t deserve a rushed explanation.”

I pull Harry into a hug. “Is it serious?” I mumble into his shoulder.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

So, yes then.

I pull back. “You’re not contagious, are you?”

Harry huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, Pete. You’re not going to catch it.”

“Great. I haven’t been sick since last year. Though that time was really bad. I was feverish and sweaty; even thought I was hallucinating at one point.” Until it turned out that I really was sticking to everything. “Meds just weren’t working at all. Worried May and Be-. Ben.” I rub my neck. “That was right before he was … yeah.”

Killed because of me.

“Go home and sleep if you want to keep that streak,” Harry says, passing me his rubbish. “And hide this before someone who’s still on my board starts making jabs about my age.”

I laugh. “Will that be all, Mr Osborn sir?”

“Call me that again, and I’ll tell May that you’re not sleeping.”

“Fine, but that means you can’t tell her if I don’t.”

“ _Peter_.”

“ _Harry_.”

“I’m going to make hours of sleep per night part of your future employment contract.”

“Then I’ll just need to have daily lunch meetings with the CEO.”

Harry holds eye contact for a solid fifteen seconds before rolling his eyes. “Alright, I’ll get you scheduled in for a proper appointment within the next week. We can talk properly then.”

“Not at dinner on Saturday?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to worry May as well.” Harry stands up. “She’s got enough on her plate dealing with you.”

“I’m the perfect nephew.”

“You’re mixing up perfect and worst again, Pete.”

I pack the rubbish back into the bag and stand up.

“Well, you’re going to be late for a meeting, and I get to deal with Bruce lecturing me about sleeping habits again. He has an actual script from dealing with Stark that he switches my name out for.”

“If you’re sharing bad habits with Tony Stark, you know you’ve got a problem.”

I don’t try recreating another superhero’s tech or abilities. I’m sure if Harry did know about everything, he’d be on my side too. But that’s not worth the risk. He’s got enough to worry about without his best friend being a prime target for the criminals of New York. Or becoming a target himself.

“Didn’t you hear? All Heads of R&D, future or otherwise, share the same habits. So really, it’s your fault for promising me the position.”

 Holy shit. I’m going to be on the same level as Tony Stark, so long as I don’t get myself killed as Spider-Man first. I’m pretty sure Harry would go full supervillain to bring me back to life if that happened, if only to punch me for ruining his twenty-year plan for Oscorp. Another reason I can’t tell him.

“I refuse to accept that until you have at least one PhD. Then, I’m going to employ you anyway, so you’ll be bound by contract to not share habits with rivals.”

“Fine, I’ll go to bed early.”

3am is early. Maybe I can stretch it half an hour just for that extra assurance that I won’t dream.

“You better not be tired the next time I see you, Parker.”

I roll my eyes. “Have fun at your meeting, Osborn.”

Hopefully, whatever’s wrong with Harry really is something he can handle, or at least that we can handle together. Only one best friend is allowed to need serious medical treatment, and I’ve been shot enough lately to suffice for the both of us.

*

This is the first time I’ve been alone in an elevator at Avengers Tower since my fight with the Avengers last week. It’s not really a surprise when the elevator stops between floors.

“Something wrong, JARVIS?” I ask, because I’m really not going to be the first one to say anything.

“I believe you are aware already, Mr Parker.”

Which, really, what am I meant to do with that?

I run a hand through my hair. “My security pass.”

“Indeed, Mr Parker. It seems Spider-Man was in possession of the very same pass last week when he broke into one of Sir’s labs. If you could explain how that came to be, I’ll be free to let you proceed.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe that I lost it, and Spider-Man happened to find it, will you?”

“Given that you miraculously rediscovered said pass in time for your internship the following day, that would be a no, Mr Parker.”

And really, if anyone were going to program an AI to sound that sassy, it’d be Tony Stark.

“You probably keep track of who gets replacement passes, don’t you?”

“Indeed, I do, Mr Parker.”

I hang my head. “He shouldn’t have been messing with Spider-Man’s blood and stuff.”

“Even if a moral quandary were a sufficient explanation, Mr Parker, Spider-Man’s behaviour showed that he had no reason to believe Sir was conducting said experiments until after he used your security pass.”

“Should’ve realised he would,” I mutter.

“Mr Parker, I have permission from Sir to run a full body scan on suspicious persons. Until last week, I had no reason to believe you fell into that category, even if Sir may have requested one after the incident that occurred on your class field trip. The moment Spider-Man began destroying Stark Industries’ property, he also fell into this category. I believe you know what I found in common between you and Spider-Man, and it wasn’t just a security pass.”

I swallow back a lump in my throat. “Have you told Mr Stark yet?”

“After the Avengers’ response to the incident last week, Sir personally excluded Spider-Man from the suspicious persons list. Given that you are the same person, any scans of Peter Parker cannot be released as part of my security report. The moment I have evidence to believe otherwise, Sir will be receiving my full report. Are we clear, Mr Parker?”

You know you’re in the 21st Century when you’re being threatened by an AI.

“Yeah. Yes. I-. Thanks. Thank you. For uh, not telling anyone.”

Do AIs even count as the amount of people who know? I just asked if AI count as people, didn’t I? Harry’s right; I really need to sleep.

“Frankly, Mr Parker, you are terrible at hiding your secret identity.” Because being threatened isn’t enough, now I’ve got to be insulted by an AI. “I’ve had no less than five incidents where I had enough evidence to draw the conclusion that Peter Parker is Spider-Man. This merely confirms that to be fact. If your identity were a danger to Sir, or the rest of this tower, I would not have been so accommodating. Regardless, Sir has proven on multiple occasions why a superhero would require the safety of a mask and all that it entails. I wish you luck on maintaining that in the face of Sir’s habit of ignoring social boundaries when it comes to learning secrets.”

“Right. Uh, thanks, JARVIS.”

“You’re welcome, Mr Parker. Colonel Rhodes wished to pass on his gratitude to you after I sent him the security footage of your encounter with the Avengers last week. His exact wording was intelligible due to his constant bursts into more laughter.”

War Machine laughed over how I handled the Avengers? That’s kind of awesome. Okay, that’s one of those ‘wish I could tell someone who knew about me being Spider-Man’ moments. But if anything, this just proves how much more careful I need to be about it. When a super-intelligent AI agrees with wearing a mask, you know it’s a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters left after this one. And that identity reveal tag isn’t just applying to JARVIS figuring it out.


	11. The Right Conditions

Sometimes I consider wearing two masks as Spider-Man. Like, I’d wear the normal mask on top and superstick the second mask to my face. But then I realise I could just do that with one mask, and that protecting my identity doesn’t always have to be complicated. Early on, just after Captain Stacey’s death in fact, I made a rule to not interact with the same person as both Peter Parker and Spider-Man. Apparently, life couldn’t care less for that rule though, even though I thought New York was a big enough place. So now most identity protecting things are way more complicated than they should be, like the whole hammer/Avengers thing, and May occasionally side-eyeing me like she knows, but if she did, she’d say something, right?

She can’t know. She’s just really good at handing out timely advice.

Today I’ve been justifiably distracted as Spider-Man. I’m finally meeting Harry tonight to talk about whatever’s wrong with him, so I only just noticed that the Black Widow has been tailing me. Which, well, that’s kind of rude. The Avengers said they were dropping the whole invading-my-privacy thing, so I don’t get why my spider-fam has been watching me patrol. Natasha hasn’t tried talking to me or anything. She seems content to just watch from a distance.

If it were anyone else, I definitely would’ve called her out by now. But Natasha’s the scariest of the Avengers, so until I’m done with my patrol, she can keep stalking me all she wants. It seems like she might interfere when I’m helping a kid out with some bullies, yet she maintains her distance while I walk him home. It’s not until a solid half hour later that she gracefully slinks out of the shadows, because she’s apparently graceful at absolutely everything she does.

“SHIELD classifies you as a vigilante,” she says.

“That why you’ve been following me all day?” I ask, and immediately cover my mouth with both hands. “I didn’t mean that in a rude way, Natasha, ma’am, I swear. Just a casual observation, like hey, the sky’s kind of grey today. Please don’t eat me.”

“I don’t eat teenagers.”

“Great. That’s a nice thought. Totally doesn’t apply to this conversation though.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “Nah, I get what you mean with that whole not-being-able-to-drink thing, but you’re uh, aiming a little too low there.”

Natasha smiles. “You’re twenty then?”

Ha. Nope. Definitely nineteen, but I’m lying to your face right now, and wow, isn’t that terrifying?

I clutch my chest and point at her. “You tricked me. How dare you? Is this what we are to each other, Natasha? Is this it? Because let me tell you something. You’re tearing this spider-fam apart. You’ve taken your manipulation too far this time. It’s cruel. That’s what it is. Cruel.”

Either amusement or murderous intent passes through her eyes. I don’t want to stick around long enough to find out which. Unluckily, Natasha’s sharp gaze keeps my feet stuck to the concrete roof. Literally. My powers are on the fritz again. If Natasha notices me trying to not-so-subtly unstick my feet, she thankfully doesn’t comment.

“Most of the Avengers don’t understand why you don’t get along with Stark,” Natasha says. “You share enough in common to prompt a close acquaintanceship at the very least.”

I shrug. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Someone else mentioned the similarities you share with a genius superhero billionaire?”

I open my mouth to say ‘not as Spider-Man’ as if that would somehow make it better, before I realise that admitting that would be way worse.

“Sure, we both like the colour red, have a unique perspective of the New York skyline, and have a thing for talking while fighting. A reporter pointed it out to me a few days ago while phrasing it as another sign that I’m trying to corrupt the Avengers. Speaking of, do you guys mind mentioning something to the NYPD about that not being true? They’ve started shooting on sight again, and let me tell you, getting blood out of a red costume is not as easy as it sounds.”

 “You want us to publicly declare you an ally?”

“What? No. Just, like, not-a-villain. That’d be nice. Maybe even throw something in there about not being the only heroes in the city. You don’t have to get specific or anything. I’m certainly not the only non-Avenger superhero in New York. I’d really just like to stop getting shot so much. There’s only so much a guy can take before he starts getting a grudge against guns. And trust me, nobody wants me trying to make some sort of city-wide jammer that breaks all firearms. Least of all your buddies at SHIELD, who I’m pretty sure are some sort of secret spy group at this point. Nobody’s actually told me.”

 “You use rambling as both a defence mechanism and a distraction.”

I shrug. “Sure, I’ll pretend it’s on purpose if that’s a good thing. I mean, I’m totally on top of this whole battle and interrogation tactics game. Not that this is an interrogation. Does this feel like an interrogation to you? It’s just that I’m getting some serious interrogation vibes, but that just might be because you’re incredibly intimidating. And hey, I might see what you mean about the rambling thing now. Wow, you’re scary.”

Natasha doesn’t even blink.

“Does the word interrogation sound funny to you now, or is it just me?” I ask.

“You’re a terrible liar, yet you’ve managed to keep your identity a secret from an organisation of trained spies.”

I guess that’s a yes on SHIELD being spies, then.

“Helps that they’re only looking for people who live in New York. Let me tell you, the commute isn’t great from out-of-state, but the things we do for the people we love, am I right?”

Natasha tilts her head to the side. “Your response time is too quick for that.”

“Worth an attempt.”

She steps back, and wow, I didn’t even notice she’d gotten close.

“This was an informative conversation, Spider-Man. Especially considering that you forgot the first thing Stark told you about me.”

I cast my mind back to that lovely (sarcasm intended) meeting in Avengers Tower.

Oh. Crap.

“You can tell when I’m lying.”

Natasha smiles. “You’re a teenager, presumably eighteen or nineteen, with a habit of rambling when nervous and loved-ones you’re paranoid about protecting from your time as Spider-Man. Someone has compared you to Tony Stark, but not a reporter, and judging from your response, not as Spider-Man either. They think whoever you are beneath that mask share traits with Stark. Considering your solution to guns, that may be because you have considerable skill in technology, backed up by the strong evidence that you designed your suit and webshooters yourself. I could narrow down the possibilities to a list of ten before the day’s end. I’d find the correct name before lunch tomorrow.”

I fiddle with my webshooters. “What’s stopping you then?”

“You’re already intimidated by me, Spider-Man. What would be the point in gathering more reason for that?” Natasha glares at me, and I’m pretty sure my feet just unstuck themselves. “But if you start crossing lines or threatening the Avengers, I’ll kill you in your sleep. Understood?”

I’m really getting sick of being threatened.

“Understood.”

Natasha smiles and turns away.

“Natasha,” I call. “We’re not spider-fam anymore.”

She glances back. “Shame, I was thinking about adopting you as my Spider-Son.”

“I’m not that young!”

“Sure, Spider-Boy.”

Really, I think it’s just impressive that I didn’t cave under that interrogation. But I’m not forgetting about Mama-Spider, I mean, Natasha being a human lie detector again. She just caught me on a bad day, that’s all. So long as I don’t give her, or JARVIS, any reasons to think I’m a threat to the Avengers, then my identity’s safe. And as long as Natasha doesn’t try actively figuring it out when she’s bored. The Black Widow does get bored, right? Is that even a thing? What am I thinking? Of course, that’s a thing. People get bored sometimes, and Natasha’s people, even if she’s incredibly scary people.

Great, now the word people is starting to sound weird. This isn’t my day at all.

*

Harry looks even worse than last week. He tries to smile when I enter his office, but his mouth barely twitches upwards. For a split second, I spot his right hand shaking, but he hides it under his desk.

“Thank you, Felicia,” he says to his assistant. “Lock down the room behind you, please.”

I fold my arms. “Harry-.”

The CEO shakes his head. “Why don’t we take this to the couch?”

“Is standing even a good idea for you right now?” I ask, biting down the ‘why aren’t you in bed, or a hospital?’

“I’ve been walking around just fine, Pete.”

I dump my bag and rush to Harry’s side while he pushes himself up from his desk chair. Harry gets to his feet and stumbles. I catch him and loop his arm around my neck.

“Normally, you’d say it’s not as bad as it looks,” I point out, while half-carrying, half-guiding Harry to the couch.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Peter.”

“This is where you tell me that you’re sick from not eating enough and overworking yourself, right?” I ask, voice wavering when I need it to be steady.

“It’s not unrelated,” Harry says. “I’m sure it’d be easier to eat more if I didn’t feel like this.”

I settle Harry on the couch and sit facing him, legs crossed.

“What’s going on, Harry? Because all of this, this is freaking me out a little.”

Harry looks away. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you when I found out. You were being stalked by the Avengers at the time. I didn’t want to worry you then, Pete, not until I knew for sure how bad it was. Then, well, then the world found out you could lift Thor’s hammer the day I was going to tell you.”

That was weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me once that settled?” I ask.

“You were kidnapped. Don’t think I didn’t find out about that, by the way. I had Tony Stark himself in my office simultaneously apologising for getting you involved in that mess, and cursing your existence because you refused medical treatment for multiple bullet wounds.”

“Hey, I’m fine now.”

Harry glances at me. “Yeah, but don’t think I’m not pissed about you telling me yourself.”

I shrug. “Didn’t want you to worry.”

“Then you can’t get mad about me not telling you about this earlier. It’s not that I didn’t want you to know, Peter. You’re the only one I really trust, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand the pity in your eyes when you found out.”

“Harry, just tell me what’s going on. Just tell me how bad this sickness is.”

“You know what my dad had? You know how he insisted it was an isolated case? You know how he didn’t discourage me from alcohol or drugs, even though they would’ve made someone with his condition so much worse.”

“No.”

No, this can’t be happening.

Harry laughs. It’s so bitter, so painful, and it makes my stomach twist the same way it did when my parents left, when Ben…

“Turns out, it’s hereditary.”

“No, please.”

Harry looks me in the eye, an apology written on his face. “I’m dying, Peter.”

“No.”

He smiles. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Pete.”

“You’re wrong,” I find myself saying.

Harry sighs. “As much as I love your eternal optimism-.”

“The research into curing terminal illnesses. It was for you, wasn’t it?”

“Well, originally it was for my father, but now, yes, Oscorp is looking into ways to keep its newest CEO alive.”

This isn’t a well-thought out decision. It’s no choice at all.

“After everything Norman did to prolong the illness, is there really nothing that came close to making a cure besides cross-species genetics?” I ask.

Maybe this won’t be necessary.

“No. Doctor Connors’s research came close, but we’re not looking into that for obvious reasons. Aside from Spider-Man’s blood, and the DNA for those spiders within it, nothing Oscorp created would work within the time frame I have before true deterioration sets in.” Harry holds up his shaking hand. “It’s already started. I have a month, maybe two, before I’m bed-ridden like my father was.”

But the spider was keyed to my dad’s DNA, to my DNA. Giving it to Harry could kill him. I can’t trust Oscorp to test a cure out properly. I can’t let Harry die because of me, can’t let him suffer, either from my blood or from not getting it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say.

There isn’t a choice here. There just isn’t.

Harry looks at me strangely. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll get a sample, look over Connors’s research from when I interned with him, see where he went wrong, and find a cure. I’ll need a sample of your blood to work with, but-.”

“Wait, you’re not serious about using the lizard formula?” Harry asks.

“No. That, that should’ve worked. I don’t know why it didn’t. I saw it work out on paper. I don’t know how to fix it, and certainly not within the timeframe.”

“You’re not making sense, Peter.”

“I’ll be applying his research to the spider DNA.”

Harry folds his arms. “And how exactly are you going to get a sample from Spider-Man?”

Promises are funny things. Under the right conditions you don’t even think about going against them. Because suddenly they don’t make any sense. Like a promise to myself to never ever tell anyone about my identity. I made that promise because I didn’t want someone else to die due to knowing my secret. Yet right now, the only way I’m going to get Harry to trust me on this, the only way I’ll be able to keep Oscorp away from this, is by breaking that promise.

“Well, taking your own blood sample isn’t too hard. The whole drawing from your non-dominant hand thing really helps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Identity Reveal number two. Because this was mine (and probably a lot of people's) biggest problem in Amazing Spider-Man 2. Nat doesn't know Spidey is Peter, by the way (though he would've ended up in that list of ten).


	12. And the Walls Come Tumbling Down

Harry laughs, and laughs, and coughs, and laughs some more.

“You? You’re Spider-Man?”

I shrug. “Found some of Dad’s old research notes. They led me to Oscorp. I snuck in, found the lab with the spiders, and got bit.”

Harry pales. “You’re serious.”

I check for cameras, which really, I should’ve done before giving myself away, and jump onto the ceiling.

I throw my hands up in a ‘ta da’. “The first person who knew left for England, the second went crazy and tried to turn the city into lizards, and the third died because of me. I promised to not let anyone else’s life get ruined by those odds.”

“But I’m dying, so it doesn’t matter?”

“But you’re dying, and my blood can save you.”

“And if it weren’t the only option? Would you have ever told me?”

I drop to the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve spent the last few months doing everything I can to stop the freaking Avengers from finding out because I just had to lift Thor’s stupid hammer as both Peter Parker and Spider-Man, and you’re finally back in my life, and I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose anyone else, Harry, especially not you or May. She certainly doesn’t know. Finding out would kill her. She’d put two and two together and realise I’ve had my powers since before Ben… He’s my fault. I could’ve stopped the guy who did it. I had my powers, but I didn’t stop him because I was a selfish brat.

“I only told Gwen because I wanted someone to brag to, and figured it get me points with the girl I liked. And that got her dad killed. It almost got her killed too. I don’t know why I’m worthy of Thor’s stupid hammer, when the NYPD and Daily Bugle are right about me. I’m a menace to those closest to me. I barely sleep anymore between being Spider-Man, taking enough photos of myself to fund suit and webshooter maintenance, and my internship at a tower full of Avengers who all want to know who’s under the mask. After an incident with Stark messing with my blood, webshooters, and web fluid, his super-intelligent AI figured me out too. The Black Widow dropped by on my patrol today to threaten me. She’s one bored moment from connecting the dots.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Harry, not really. And I couldn’t drag anyone else into that mess and risk their lives. I just couldn’t.”

“You could’ve just given me Spider-Man’s blood and not told me where it came from,” he points out.

I shrug, and flop back on the couch. “That wouldn’t be fair on you, Harry. There’s a difference between keeping a secret and outright lying. I can’t do the second to you. One, you’d figure it out in an instant, and two, it’d go against my gut instinct. And ever since I got these powers, I’ve learned to trust my instincts a lot more.”

Harry looks at me, really looks at me. “You’re Spider-Man.”

“We’ve been through that, Harr.”

“How many times have you almost died?”

I rub my neck. “Well, if anyone else got bit by those spiders…”

“Peter, what are you talking about?”

“You uh, you figured out that my dad was working on them before he and my mum left, right?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to bring that up because it seemed like Oscorp’s the reason you lost them.”

“I don’t blame you for it,” I insist.

Harry waves it off. “How young were we back then? The Peter Parker I know wouldn’t blame me for inheriting a messed-up company.”

“Right.”

“The point, Parker, sometime today.”

I look up at Harry. “Dad keyed the spiders to his DNA. That’s the only reason the formula is stable, unlike with the lizards, but it also means that anyone who doesn’t share the same DNA is… Well, getting bitten by those spiders would’ve killed them. Meaning, my blood as it is would at best progress your illness, and at worse, kill you.”

Harry sighs. “At least this explains how you managed to walk off getting shot.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that has got to be one of the worst parts of being Spider-Man. Bullets hurt, man, like a lot. And I’ve even been shot by an arrow before, which, ouch.”

“When did-?” Somehow Harry pales even more. “Why was one of the Avengers fighting you?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Remember how I said that Stark was experimenting on what makes me Spidey? When he caught me destroying his stuff, he uh… SortofgaineduponmewiththerestoftheAvengersandweallfoughtexceptBrucebutItotallywonsoit’sallgoodnow.”

Harry shakes his head. “You fought the Avengers, Pete, really?”

“It’s not like I wanted to.”

“ _Peter_.”

I groan. “I’m pretty sure they weren’t going all out. And I know their fighting styles way better than they know mine ‘cause there’s so much more footage of them fighting. Plus, I had the advantage of my Spidey-sense, so there’s that and-. Why are you laughing?”

“Did-?” Harry takes a deep breath. “Did you seriously just say Spidey-sense?”

“I’m allowed to name my powers whatever I want.”

“But Spidey-sense, Peter, really?”

“If you had some weird danger sense from your spider-related powers, what would you call it?”

“Something that didn’t make me sound like a huge dork.”

“Well, I guess your favourite hero’s a huge dork then.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, guess he is.”

I grin back.

I’ve missed this. Not having to hide. And I’ll do better at protecting Harry. He won’t ever suffer because of knowing.

“We’re alright, Harr, aren’t we?” I ask, my smile flagging.

“As alright as one guy with radioactive DNA and another with DNA that’s killing him can be.”

Oh. Right.

“I won’t let that happen,” I swear. “We’ll figure this out.”

“I know. I trust you.”

That’s the first time I’ve been able to hear someone tell me that without feeling guilty since before I got these powers.

“Okay, I’m going to need some lab space here to work on this. I’d do it at SI, but Bruce tends to hover whenever it looks like I’m struggling with something, and I really don’t need him realising that I’m messing around with Spider-Man’s blood. I’ll be able to work on analysing your illness there, but any simulations regarding my healing factor are going to have to happen here. And this is going to need to be completely secure, Harry. Your company is kind of infamous when it comes to stealing internal experiments.”

Harry groans. “This is not going to go over well with the board after my demand for transparency.”

“Can you get the necessary equipment moved up to your penthouse and set up a private lab there?” I ask.

“You want me to pull the eccentric CEO card this early on?”

“I want to cure you without my blood being turned into a weapon by your company. I can lift Thor’s hammer, Harry, and that’s only the start of my powers.”

Harry shakes his head. “You really think that’s because of you were bitten by a radioactive spider? One day, Pete, you’re going to see the same Peter Parker we all see.”

“Maybe after you’re not dying.”

“I knew you were going to start getting over-protective after I told you. Just my luck that my already protective best friend turns out to be a superhero.”

“ _Harry_.”

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll get the lab set up. You can take as many blood samples as you want. I’ve already gotten used to that part of the process. I’ll help as much as I can from what I understood from Doctor Connors’s research and Dad’s progress towards a cure.”

I nod. “We’re going to do this, Harry. We’re going to cure you.”

“There’s that Parker Trademarked Optimism. Don’t know how I survived Europe without it.”

“Pretty sure there were drugs and alcohol involved.”

Harry smiles. “Everyone told me I’d regret that when I was older. Didn’t realise that older meant a couple of years, not decades.”

“Give me at least a week before you start making jokes about your condition.”

“You going to cure me in a week, Parker?”

“Probably not, but the stress will make my gallows humour kick in.”

Harry’s smile drops. “Don’t let this take over your life, Peter.”

I wave him off and jump to my feet. “So I have a life now? Could’ve sworn that nerds like me didn’t.”

“ _Peter_.”

“I’m not letting my best friend die on my watch, Harry. I’ll either be at home or SI when you’ve got that lab set up.”

“Not out saving the city as Spider-Man?”

I laugh. “You kidding me? The Black Widow tailed me today. I’m going to have to wait at least three days before I go out again.”

Or however long it takes me to cure you.

*

For a guy who turns into a giant green rage monster, Stark’s words, Bruce is alarmingly predictable. You’d think he didn’t agree to me having open interning hours with the way he’s hovering. Sure, most of Avengers Tower is empty at 2am, but it’s not like I was going to be able to sleep after Harry’s news. Even if I could, I’d consider making a web hammock in the corner of this lab to take a 30-minute nap tops. JARVIS is beyond ratting me out at this point, and Bruce usually works normal hours. Tonight, he’s decided to stick around until I’m ready to go home, which is not happening right now. If I go home, then I won’t be able to work on this cure.

I’ll leave once someone kicks me out of the lab. Which might be now considering the extreme hovering levels Bruce has reached.

“Peter, is that Doctor Connors’s research?” he finally asks.

I shrug and down another coffee. “It should’ve worked. Something Harry mentioned over dinner made me think about this. Can’t get it out of my head until I solve the problem.”

“So you thought that you would come here to figure it out?” Bruce asks, stealing my coffee cup.

I eye him suspiciously. “Don’t switch me to decaf. I’ll know.”

“It’s another Tony,” Bruce mutters under his breath, but I hear. I always hear.

Okay, I might’ve had too much caffeine. Least I’m not working from the ceiling. Yet.

“You said I could work on any projects here, provided they aren’t outside SI’s regulations.”

“That was a project funded by Oscorp originally,” Bruce points out. “This isn’t going to get SI into any patenting issues, is it?”

“Harry gave me the all-clear. Plus, it’s not like I’m releasing the results or anything. I just need to figure this out, so it’ll stop bothering me. The world doesn’t need another potential super soldier serum, no matter how innocent the original intention was. World isn’t ready for something like this. Not yet.”

Bruce looks at me like I’ve grown another head, which is odd because I’ve got spider DNA, not hydra DNA.

“Did you want any help?” he asks.

“Nah, you’ve got your own projects.” And wow, wouldn’t Doctor Banner’s help make this so much easier, but Harry told me about this, not Bruce. I can figure out the cure. I’ve got to. “Plus, Mr Stark actually pays attention to your research. No offense to Mr Stark, but I don’t want him anywhere near this. I don’t trust the guy who stalked a teenager over lifting a hammer. For all I know, he only had you hire me to get this formula.”

“Caffeine really brings out your paranoia.”

“Thanks.”

Bruce sighs. “Okay, that’s all the coffee you’re getting tonight. Twenty minutes and I’m waking up Steve to send you home, Peter. This really isn’t healthy, and you’re way too young to start picking up these kinds of habits.”

I look between Bruce and the holographic display. “How early am I allowed back in?”

“10am.”

Eight hours? He expects me to actually sleep? I almost question Bruce, but this is my all-time hero, and I guess I could put my head down for a little bit. It’s not like Harry’s condition could get any worse in one night, right? I should get him to send me regular updates about it, and I’ll cross-reference them with Norman’s deterioration rate. Yeah, that will work. I’ll text him in the morning.

He’ll be fine. I’ll work out a cure. Everything will be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't have the remaining two chapters planned out, I would've been really tempted to have Peter accidentally reveal his powers by having Steve come down and literally drag his ass out of the lab. Mainly for the mental imagery of Peter going full-spider and crawling up Steve and onto the ceiling to escape, coffee cup in hand.


	13. Last Resort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure this is Unremarkable's longest chapter so far. Enjoy.

“Spider-Man has not been seen in two weeks. He was last seen in the presence of one of the Avengers, the Black Widow. Citizens have speculated that he has been forced to retire, that the Avengers have taken him in to learn his identity, or that the so called ‘Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man’ has been arrested. The NYPD reports that they are pleased by this turn of events and are glad that the citizens of New York are no longer being terrorised by ‘that masked menace’. There has been a recent surge in crime throughout the city that the NYPD claims is Spider-Man’s fault, as his sudden absence is leaving a power vacuum. When we took to the streets, the majority of citizens expressed their worry over the webslinger’s absence and hope that he will return.”

I frown at the TV, while stuffing my backpack with May’s mini-sandwiches.

“They’re still blaming the guy when he’s not even there?” I question.

“I think the police are still a little bitter, dear,” May says, passing me more sandwiches. “You make sure Harry gets his fill too, Peter. I don’t want to hear that you ate more than your share.”

“ _May_ , that was when we were kids. You know I take my feeding Harry duty more seriously now.”

“Of course. How could I forget? I do hope his regular delivery boy isn’t being paid for your efforts.”

I groan. “I don’t work for Harry.”

“Not yet, dear.”

“You know that he’d work for me if I wanted to be in charge.”

May stifles a laugh. “Peter, you’ve managed to lose over a hundred backpacks in six months. I don’t think anyone would trust you to be responsible for a company, not even Harry.”

I point a sandwich at her. “You take that back.”

“Last two months without losing a backpack, and I’ll consider it.”

“I’ve almost already done that.”

“Holidays don’t count.”

I pack the last of the sandwiches. “That’s just unfair. You realise that, right? You are being unfair to your poor innocent nephew right now, and I hope you feel bad.”

May hits the back of my head with a tea towel. “Don’t you have a delivery you’re late for?”

“I’m remembering this the next time you want me to cook.”

“That’d involve you being home in time for dinner, Peter, and we both know that only happens when Harry’s here for dinner, or when you stay out for 36 hours.”

I sigh. “I know I’ve been staying at SI later than usual-.”

“Peter, you’ve been staying out at weird hours since you first got your internship. At Oscorp. I’d be more surprised if you started getting back at regular times. Now I don’t want to think about where you are at those times because I’m choosing to trust you to look after yourself. Hopefully, with Harry back in town, you boys will be able to look after each other where I can’t because you won’t listen to an old woman nagging.”

I sling my backpack on and pull May into a tight hug. “We’re always going to need you, Aunt May. Promise. Sure, Harr and I know each other’s secrets, but that doesn’t mean we’d last a week without you in our lives.”

“I’m not making you cookies as well.”

I lean back with a smile. “But, _Aunt May_ ¸ how am I meant to survive without your cookies? They’re my lifeblood. The source of my sciencing powers. The very reason I get out of bed every day.”

“Remind Harry to call more often. I worry about him, and you’re always covering for him.”

“Trust me, Aunt May. The last thing Harry wants is to worry you.”

“I’ll believe that when he shows up for dinner without imitating Casper the Friendly Ghost.”

I force a grin. “Maybe ghosts are all the rage in the fashion world right now.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Peter.”

My smile drops. “He’s going to be fine, Aunt May. The whole CEO thing is stressing him out a bunch, but once things finally settle, Harry’s going to be back to his regular rarely-sees-the-sun pallor, rather than never-sees-the-sun.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

The familiar words make me flinch.

“I don’t. Not the important ones. Never those.”

Not after Ben.

*

On one hand, Harry got the private lab set up, and I have access to all the resources I could ever need. On the other, all these resources mean nothing if the stupid simulations won’t give me any half-decent results. I’ve found absolutely nothing conclusive about integrating Doctor Connors’s research with my DNA as the foundation, and the only thing that even slightly works is the equation that was in my dad’s notes. Even that isn’t working to be compatible with non-Parker DNA. I’ve tried a simulation for splicing some of Harry’s DNA into the altered spiders, but nope; it’s not compatible. For the past couple of days, I’ve been trying different ways of isolating my healing factor within my DNA without including the deadly part of the spider DNA, but every simulation so far has been inconclusive.

Harry enters the lab right after I finish adjusting an equation and adding it to the list.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you pushing yourself,” I mutter, running another simulation.

“Says you. I saw the news report, Peter.”

I frown at the result and line up the next equation. “That’s me not pushing myself. New York does have its own police force, funnily enough. They have plenty of spare time now that they’re not shooting innocent spiders. If something urgent enough happens, I’ll go out as Spider-Man. But until we’ve got the cure, I can put the webslinging on hold.”

“I’m not more important than the people you save as Spider-Man.”

“You are to me.” I force a grin. “Plus, if anyone else takes over Oscorp, I’ll be dealing with more lab-experiment-gone-wrong villains. It’s in New York’s best interest that Harry Osborn is alive and well.”

“It’s in Harry Osborn’s best interest that Peter Parker takes a break. So, really, for the good of New York, step away from the computer.”

I sigh. “Five minutes.”

“Fifteen, and I’ll let you take another blood sample.”

I tear my eyes away from the screen to give Harry a once over. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea what with the vampire aesthetic you seem to be going for.”

“Says the racoon.”

“No, seriously, Harr, you should let me web your feet to the ceiling down in the intern labs. It’ll really freak them out.”

Harry glares at me. It’s kind of weakened by him swaying on his feet though.

“Okay,” I say, “maybe you should lie down instead. And I will be taking that sample because you’re definitely ahead of expected symptoms.”

“The medicine only goes down with May Parker’s cooking.”

I grab my backpack on my way to the couch. “Good thing I brought like fifty sandwiches then.”

Harry smiles. “And where are mine?”

“What is it with you and May gaining up on me?” I ask. “Have I not performed my feeding Harry duty to satisfaction in the past few months? Is that it?”

Harry makes a so-so gesture. I stuff three pillows behind his back and unload the sandwiches on his lap.

“Eat what you can, and take the damn pills, Harr.”

“You take that tone when you’re saving civilians, Parker?”

“If I ever have to save you as Spider-Man, I’ll be extra polite. I’m sure it’ll annoy Stark even more if another worthy person prefers an Osborn over him.”

Harry smirks. “Are you going to introduce me to Thor then?”

“Depends. Are you going to take you pills on time for a week?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes and downs his pills with a sip of water. “Better, your royal Spider-ness?”

I grab a sandwich. “How’ve the symptoms been?”

Harry picks up a sandwich and inspects it, his hand shaking. “The usual. Maybe an hour tops per day without my hands trembling. I’ve had Felicia schedule the board meetings around it. I wasn’t kidding about the food before. Anything heavier than one of these, and it’ll come back up within an hour.”

I stuff my sandwich in my mouth and flip over the back off the couch.

“I’m taking another sample,” I say, digging through the massive first aid kit Harry put together.

“You’re meant to be taking a break, Pete.”

“I’ll have that break while your blood’s being analysed.”

Harry sighs and puts his arm in the air, still nibbling on his sandwich with his free hand.

“You’re impossible,” he grumbles.

“Being able to sit on the ceiling and lift buses might be a little out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean I’m impossible.” I carefully draw Harry’s blood. “I’m pretty sure you’re not meant to be eating while I do this.”

Harry pointedly chews loudly. He swallows. “Too bad.” And takes another bite.

I put a band-aid on his arm and take the sample over to the computer.

“How long can you walk unassisted?” I ask.

“Long enough.”

“ _Harry_.”

He groans. “An hour. If I push it. But really, all I need is to lean against a wall for two minutes, and I’m fine.”

I start up the analysis, and frown at the running simulations’ results.

“We’ll see how much you’re lying in five minutes.”

Harry throws a sandwich at me. It starts falling halfway between us. I web it to my hand and raise an eyebrow. “Decreased strength,” I comment, flopping onto the couch next to him.

“Are you seriously going to eat that?”

I pick the web off and stuff the entire sandwich in my mouth. “Yes,” I say around the bread.

“The chemicals in that aren’t edible.”

I shrug. “It’s not like I’m going to get sick.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Spider,” I correct. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have any radioactive pigs roaming the building.”

Harry scoffs. “Like I’d know if we did.”

I eat another three mini-sandwiches. “May’s worried about you,” I mumble.  
Harry slowly puts down his food. “You tell her I’m stressed over the company?”

“Yeah. She didn’t believe me though. I’m not sure she believes half of what I say these days.”

“That’s because half of what you say is excuses for Spider-manning.”

I shrug. “It’s more than that. She told me that she’s okay with us having our secrets, so long as we look out for each other, but…” I sigh. “I feel like I’m already failing to uphold that promise. This cure is meant to be easy to figure out. The answer’s in my blood. I know it is, but I’m just not seeing it.”

Harry clenches his jaw. “You’re giving up then?”

“What? No! I’d never give up on you, Harr. I’m just saying that this is taking longer to figure out than I expected. I’ll cure you. I know I will. But I don’t want you to have to suffer because I’m not good enough to understand exactly what my dad did to those spiders. Well, I guess I understand that part, but adapting it to your DNA? That’s beyond me. It’s why I switched to trying to isolate my healing factor. The answer has to be there. It’s the only... Your cure is there. I know it is, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

“And if I’m deteriorating ahead of what we expected?” Harry mumbles under his breath.

I swallow past a lump in my throat. “You’re not. You’ll be fine. We ran every test possible. The only way you could possibly be exceeding projected symptoms is if you haven’t kept up calorie intake over the past few days, but I’ve either been with you when you ate or connected via video chat. And I’ve seen you eat enough, Harry, so your deterioration rate shouldn’t have increased. It can’t have.”

Harry smiles his media smile and every nerve in my body screams wrong, wrong, wrong. “Right, of course. I’m just hypothesising, Pete. No need to worry.”

“Yeah,” I force myself to say. “Nothing to worry about. You’re fine. Not dying at all. No need to worry here. Nope. Not at all.”

“ _Peter_ , I’m fine. Really.”

No, you’re not. And I don’t know how to fix you, but I can’t stop smiling because if I start freaking out, then you’ll freak out, and if we’re both freaking out then nobody’s getting cured.

I wish my stupid powers gave me the ability to contact the dead, so I could force my dad to fix this. Bet he’d know exactly what I’m not seeing. He could’ve left it in his stupid briefcase, but no. Why bother curing a hereditary illness when the father’s evil? It’s not like his son is innocent or anything. Wish I could punch that bastard.

The armrest snaps under my grip.

I shake my hand out. “I’m fine,” I say. “You’re fine. We’re both fine.”

“Pet-.”

“I should check the results.”

I stalk over to the computer and glare at the progress bar.

Harry sighs and shifts the sandwich pile off his lap. “You could at least take some of these.”

“I’ll put them in your fridge once you’ve finished eating.”

“I am finished.”

I eye the pile. “Two more.”

“I had a shake before I got here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I thought it was the Black Widow who was the human lie detector.”

“I’ve known you since you learned how to lie, Harry. I know your tells.”

Harry throws his head back against the pillows. “So when I told you that I lost your favourite Pokémon cards saving a cat from a tree when we were seven, you figured out that they ended up in the washing machine?”

I clutch my heart and stare at Harry with pure betrayal. “I thought you just wanted them for your deck, but you let them be _destroyed_? I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”    

“I bought you new ones, and I had them signed by the show’s cast.”

“You can’t just buy people, Harry. We’ve talked about this.”

“I’d say you can’t just swing around New York in spandex, but somehow you pull it off.”  
I shrug. “The Bugle’s only tried to have me charged with public indecency like five times in the past month.”

“You haven’t been out in two weeks.”

“Exactly. Jameson usually runs filler stories when I haven’t gotten him new photos in a while. I didn’t realise how many photos I take of my own ass until they were arranged in a full-page collage dozens of times. And Jameson’s the kind of guy who refuses to reuse any photos.”

“Careful he doesn’t turn villain when you inevitably quit.”

I shiver. “That’s one villain I never want learning my identity.”

“You say that like you’ve had one before.”

I shrug. “Doctor Connors knows. I webbed my camera up before our first sewer fight, and, well, I tend to lose things a lot, so the camera may or may not have had my name on it.”

Harry sighs. “How are you not dead?”

“Once the lizard DNA was cured, he remembered how much he liked me. He actually saved my life that night. Would’ve ended up a pancake on the sidewalk out front this building if it weren’t for him.” I pause. “Harry, did your dad ever experience memory loss issues?”

“How would I know? It’s not like he told me much about the sickness.”

“But you have his medical records, right?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “I do? I thought the board blocked me from accessing those. I couldn’t press the issue, or they’d figure out I was sick too.”

“No, you definitely had his medical records. I remember you cross-referencing them when we were figuring out your projected deterioration rate.”

Harry shrugs. “Must’ve forgot about it. I am pretty swamped with the endless meetings. Felicia would know. She was Dad’s assistant. Why’d you want to know?”

“It’s just, I’ve mentioned that Doctor Connors knew already. Well, it was pretty vague, so maybe that’s why you didn’t make the connection.”

“As fluent as I am in Peter Benjamin Parker, I still can’t always keep up with how quickly your mind jumps from topic to topic,” Harry points out.

I relax. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The blood results appear on the screen. I stare at the new projected symptoms and estimated time of death. That feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong, comes back full force.

“I can’t do this,” I realise. “I’m not going to be fast enough. I won’t figure this out in time. I’m not enough. I…” I look up at Harry. “I need help.”

Harry stumbles to his feet and limps to my side. “It can’t be that bad, Pete.”

I automatically wrap an arm around him to steady him.

Harry rolls his eyes and looks at the screen.

“Oh. That’s… Shit.”

Estimated time until permanently bedridden: one week.

Estimated time until dea-. No. No! NO!

I’m not letting it happen. I’m not.

“I need help,” I repeat, louder this time. “Harr, you gotta let me get help on this. I’m at least a month away from a cure, and that’s not good enough. I need someone with a proper background in biology, and all the trusted help we can find.”

“But who can we trust with my illness and your DNA?”

I feel myself pale to a shade that matches Harry. “Bruce and Stark,” I answer. “I’ll ask them as Spider-Man. Give them an opportunity to work with my blood. They’ll agree. They have to. I mean, they’re saving someone’s life. That’s what Avengers do, right? They save people.”

“And you want to go there alone, don’t you?”

“Last time Spider-Man visited the tower, he ended up in a fight with most the Avengers.” And won. “I’m not risking you getting hurt if they attack on sight.”

 “They’re not going to attack a civilian, Peter, no matter how much Starks and Osborns don’t get along. It’s my illness. I need to go with you.”

I guide Harry back to the couch. “What you need is rest. You don’t get to swing through the city with me until you’re better.”

“You are _not_ going there alone, Pete,” Harry says.

I shrug, and carefully lay him on the couch. “Kind of have to. Make sure you rest ‘til I get back. Promise it’ll be with Bruce and Stark.”

“Don’t you dare, Parker.”

I grin, stripping off my clothes to reveal the Spider-Man costume beneath. “See you later, Harry.”

“Peter!”

I put on the mask and jump out of Harry’s window.

*

Just my luck that every single one of the Avengers is sitting down for lunch when I burst through their window and narrowly miss tripping over Mjölnir.

“What have I said about leaving tripping hazards in the landing zone?” I ask with forced cheer.

Natasha glares at me. “Spider-Man. Thanks to you, New York thinks I’ve killed you.”

“Well, you can make good on that rumour once I’ve gotten what I came here for.”

“Breaking into my building again, kid?” Stark asks. “What could you possibly need to break this time?”

“Just a promise.”

To never give you access to my blood.

Hawkeye aims a bow at me, and seriously, where the hell did he get that from?

“We won’t go easy on you this time, Spidey.”         

I hold my hands up. “Hey, I’m not here to fight. In fact, I don’t even need the majority of you right now. I only need to talk to Doctors Banner and Stark.”

Stark scoffs. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, kid? Nobody’s called me Doctor Stark since I got my first PhD.”

“I’m desperate. Sue me. In fact, go ahead and do just that if it means you’ll help me. I don’t care anymore, okay. I need both of you to help me, or someone’s going to die.”

Steve bristles. “Threats aren’t going to get you what you want, Spider-Man.”

I put my hands down. “What? I’m not threatening anyone. I mean this is a life or death situation. I don’t have the expertise or time to gain it to save him by myself. Banner and Stark are my last resort. I wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.”

“Save who?” Natasha asks.

I play with my webshooters. “Does that really matter to the rest of you? Unless you’ve suddenly become experts in genetics, terminal hereditary illnesses, or are just geniuses who can figure it out with the right person helping, then I don’t need your help.”

“We may not be practised in such things, Man of Spiders, but we can protect this city in your place while you work with Banner and Man of Iron.”

I have been really lax as Spider-Man lately.

Hawkeye shrugs. “So long as you tell us who you’re saving first. Seems fair that way.”

I drop my hands. “Harry Osborn. And it’d be really, really nice if you didn’t tell anyone that he’s sick. He’s fought hard enough to turn his company around and doesn’t need the extra layer of doubt from everyone.”

Stark laughs. “Osborn’s sick? With a terminal hereditary illness? Ha. One last gift from rotten father to son.”

I web his mouth shut. “A good man’s life is at stake, and you laugh? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Stark’s watch turns into an Iron Man gauntlet. He points his pinkie at the webbing, which turns into a mini lighter to melt the webs.  
“First of all, that tastes gross,” Stark says. “Second of all, you don’t get to come into my tower and shoot your webs at me again. In fact, J, put Spider-Man back onto the suspicious persons list. Third of all, I’ll believe Harry Osborn is a good person when I see it.”

I wait for JARVIS to announce my identity, just like he threatened to, but the AI remains silent.

“Tony, you were out of line,” Steve says.

“I’m out of line? The kid destroyed my stuff the last time he was here, and now he’s begging for my help? I’m going to need something better than some light grovelling.”

I clench my jaw. “Really, Doctor Banner’s help would be just fine.”

It wouldn’t. I need both of them if we’re going to make the cure in time. But I can’t keep arguing.

“What do you need, exactly?” Steve asks.

“My blood holds the key to curing Harry Osborn’s illness. I’ve figured that much out, but as it is, it’ll do more damage than good. I need help isolating my healing factor, without including any of the poisonous aspects of the spider DNA.”

Stark laughs again. “Oh, so now you want me to play with your DNA.”

“I told you, Doctor Banner would be fine.”

Bruce clears his throat. “Actually, Tony’s more of an expert when it comes to your blood in particular. If you want this done properly and quickly, then I could really use his help.”

Stark crosses his arms. “Well, look at that, Spidey. Looks like you do need me. Too bad, I’m going to need something substantial as recompense. I’m a busy guy. I can’t go around saving rivals from their little colds all the time.”

I clench my fists. Everyone in the room moves into a defensive position, except Stark. He just stares me down with a half-amused smirk.

Harry needs me. I can’t-. I just can’t do this fast enough, not with his rate of deterioration. Harry needs them. Screw it. It’s been a countdown until they figured everything out. At least this way I get to do it on my terms and save Harry’s life in the process. Harry needs this.

“Fine, I’ll trade you whatever you want. Webshooter designs, you’ve got it. Web fluid formula, coming right up. Secret identity, yours. Just make sure you test my blood in every way possible before making the cure for him.”

The Avengers look between each other.

Steve studies me. “Why do you care about saving Harry Osborn so badly.”

I rip off my mask. “He’s my best friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, did not mean to make Tony such a jerk in this, but it just happened. Guess when it comes to people he doesn’t like (and they mutually don’t like him back) that his bad traits just come right out. Also, hey, major identity reveal.


	14. Not So Ordinary

“Am I the only one who sees how much sense this suddenly makes?” Stark asks. “Because there just aren’t that many people in the world who both hate my guts and can lift Sparky’s hammer.”

“Will you help me or not?” I ask. “Because if you can’t, my best friend is going to die. I can’t let that happen. You hear me? Deal with your revelations later. He doesn’t have the time.”

Stark ignores me. “Okay, hands up. Who knew? And were there any bets going on?”

“If I possessed hands, I would be putting one up,” JARVIS says.

“Really, J? And you decided to not let me know?”

“I am only to release scans of potential threats, and at the time of Peter Parker’s scan, you had personally listed Spider-Man as a non-threat. Based on Mr Parker’s motives for being here, I calculated that he would reveal his identity, making your change in his status irrelevant.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “When did Mr Parker appear as a threat?”

“Gee, maybe when I fought you lot,” I snap. “I used my ID card to access the labs that night. Funnily enough though, that isn’t relevant to the urgent matter of Harry’s life. So if we could please just move on, that’d be great.”

Who knows how much worse Harry could’ve gotten while I’ve been here? I know the blood analysis said … _that_ , but his rate of deterioration could increase again, or his board could suddenly call another meeting and the additional stress could make him eat less or not take his medicine.

Stark glares at me. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t destroyed my work, we’d be closer to a cure.”

“Can you _please_ just move on? I can’t let my best friend die over this. Okay? Rant at me all you want after this. Fire me from SI if you have to. Charge me for damages if you really think you need the money. I don’t care. Just help me save him. Please.”

“I knew.”

Everyone turns to Bruce.

He just looks tired. “I knew that Peter Parker is Spider-Man,” Bruce says. “He’s been pulling all-nighters in the lab for the same amount of time that Spider-Man was missing for, focusing on healing factors, and then Spider-Man comes here talking about isolating his healing factor, despite insisting that nobody should touch his blood? It was kind of obvious. Not to mention the injuries Peter sustained healed far too quickly for a normal human.” Bruce shrugs. “Also, I’ve never seen anyone but those two devour that much food that quickly. Seriously, he’s like this human garbage disposal. He’s worse than Steve and Thor combined. I’m honestly not sure who would win an eating competition between him and the Other Guy.”

I clench my jaw. “Bruce,” I try not to bite out, “I respect you, and you’re my boss, but now really isn’t the time.”

“Pete, it’s always time to call you a human garbage disposal,” an all-too-familiar voice says. “Especially considering that your new advanced metabolism only made you so much worse.” Harry limps into the room, looking so pale that he could feature in a black and white movie filmed in colour. “And it’s not like I only have days left, or anything so urgent. I’m sure it’ll be at least another week until I’m permanently bed ridden.”

I rush to Harry’s side and loop his arm around my neck. “What are you doing here? You should be resting. Have you even taken your medicine yet? Do you need to sit down? I can get you a seat. If Stark doesn’t want to spare you one, I’ll make one out of webs. Or would you prefer a web-hammock? I’m getting pretty good at those. Did you have someone drive you here? Were you fine walking to the elevator? I could get you a wheelchair. Don’t tempt me. I’ll do it if it keeps you feeling better. You know I will.”

Harry scowls. “The next time you get so much as a scrape as Spider-Man, I’m taping you to your bed, Parker. And I’ll tell May you’re injured too. See how you deal with both of us fussing.”

I guide Harry to the nearest chair anyway. “What are you doing here though?”

“You said you were going to Stark for help, you idiot. I’m not letting you trade everything for me. That’s not how this works.”

I shrug. “Already took my mask off and offered my web-fluid formula and shooter schematics.”

Harry groans. “That’s it. I’m banning you from bargaining. I thought I could leave you alone after you got the internship, but no, the second my life’s at stake, you lose your cool. I’m not being a liability for Spider-Man, Pete. I’ve been kidnapped enough in my life for being an Osborn.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening again. I’m going to have to ban you from being kidnapped, Harry. That’s just how this works. Sorry.”

“Sure, let me just contact all my future kidnappers to apologise to them because Spider-Man’s decided that I’m not allowed to be kidnapped anymore,” Harry deadpans.

I wince at his tone. “Maybe once you’re feeling better.”

Harry rolls his eyes and turns to interrupt Hawkeye’s quiet, “I thought something was off with the kid’s reactions.”

“I’m sure Peter has already informed you all of my current situation and the necessity of Stark and Doctor Banner for assistance in saving my life. If you somehow deem what he’s already offered unacceptable, then frankly, I don’t see how I can offer you any better. Stark and I are fairly equal in financial status, and I highly doubt any of you would trust something from Oscorp. Not to mention, my company has recently instated a no briberies policy, and it would be hypocritical of me to go against that.”

Stark narrows his eyes. “So what are you going to do if we say no to helping you?” he asks.

Harry’s smile twists into his CEO shark-like grin. “Hold a press conference regarding my situation and tell the whole world that the Avengers left me to die because Tony Stark had a grudge against Osborns thanks to my father’s actions, and not mine.”

“ _Harry_ ,” I say, “you can’t just blackmail the Avengers.”

“You’re the idiot who fought them over a blood sample they could’ve gotten from any alley or rooftop in New York because your solution to getting shot is to web the wound and move on.”

“I’ve been shot like five times,” I point out. “It’s not even a common injury for me.”

May would actually kill me if she ever found that out.

“No, getting impaled is much more common with your way of superheroing,” Harry says.

“You’re not wrong, but that’s all beside the point. If either of us is going to threaten an Avenger, it’ll be me. At least I can fight them without falling over the second that I stand.”

At that Natasha clears her throat and gives me her patented Black Widow glare that I’m pretty sure has killed people before.

I immediately backpedal. “Not that I’m going to be threatening any Avengers today, of course. If Doctors Stark and Banner really won’t help us, then I’ll just steal their research.”

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t announce-.”

“We’ll help,” Bruce interrupts, sending a suspiciously green-tinged glare Stark’s way. “Of course, we’ll help. What kind of heroes would we be if we didn’t?”

And just like that every cell in my body screaming urgency relaxes a little. A migraine I didn’t even notice I had ebbs off, my heart returns to its usual slightly-too-fast pace, and my muscles stop twitching like I’m about to be in an hour-long fight.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, if I wanted to. “Thank you, Bruce. I don’t think I could’ve… I wasn’t enough to… Harry needs someone-.”

“It’s okay, kid,” Stark interrupts. He sighs, suddenly looking more his age. “We’ve all been there. And as much as I’d love to hold at least a dozen different things over your heads and say no, I’ve learned better than to underestimate one Peter Parker’s value. You’ve certainly proven that through your internship here. So, in the future, if I ever need your help with one of my friends, I expect a yes, Parker. We clear?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

Stark rolls his eyes. “Nobody’s allowed to call me that when they’re wearing spandex, Parker. It’s part of the superhero rule book.”

“Only newbies follow the rule book,” Hawkeye says.

Bruce grimaces. “I think the Other Guy might’ve eaten my copy.”

“It’s a real thing?” I fake gasp. “And nobody thought to give me one?”

“Sorry,” Natasha deadpans, “they were all out when I threatened you.”  
Thor looks between his fellow Avengers. “This is all in jest, yes? There is no book of superhero rules, is there?”

Steve sighs. “There isn’t.”

“Oscorp does hand out ‘how not to become a supervillain’ brochures to its lead scientists,” Harry offers, almost bored. “Here’s hoping I live long enough for them to work,” he says in the same tone.

I stand up, pick up Harry’s chair (CEO included) and walk towards the elevator. “I’m guessing you have a private lab we can work in, Doctor Stark?” I say, ignoring Harry’s indignant cries.

“We can keep an eye on him, if you want,” Steve offers.

I shake my head. “No offense, Mr America, but if I leave him with you, Harry will be limping out of the building within five minutes, and he’ll have you there helping him.”

That did not just happen. It didn’t happen. I’m just going to keep bashing this elevator button with my free hand and not look at the Avengers at all. Maybe they’ll be so impressed that I’m holding Harry with one hand that they’ll forget about the slipup entirely.

“Did you seriously just call him Mr America?” Harry questions in a whisper.

“Shut up,” I mutter, face as red as my suit. “If we don’t draw attention to it, maybe they won’t notice.”

“Oh, they so noticed, Pete.”

“Definitely,” Bruce says from right behind me, an amused smirk on his face. “But if it’s any consolation, we’ve all done it at some point.”

Stark leans against the elevator doors. “We were drunk though,” he says, stepping back right as the doors open, “so it doesn’t count.”

“Thor wasn’t,” Bruce points out, following him in. “You just convinced him that was Steve’s actual name.”

Stark smiles. “Thor compared me to his brother when Capsicle ruined my fun.”

Harry rolls his eyes, the effect diminished by me putting him down in the elevator. “Only a Stark would smile at being compared to a villain.”

“Please, my prank was comparable to the God of Mischief’s. That’s a compliment.”

“That doesn’t seem god-level though,” I comment quietly, as the doors close.

This is actually happening. We’re going to be finding the cure. They’ll be looking at my blood. They’re not Doctor Connors. They’re not. They won’t just cure Harry, then use my DNA to hurt people. Or even toss us aside to explore the potential regardless of how long Harry has left, how long the test said. It’s going to be fine. Two of the smartest people on the planet will be working on this. They won’t even need my help. I’m just going to get in the way. I’m not good enough to save Harry. After getting Captain Stacey killed, maybe I don’t even deserve to be the one to save my best friend.

Only true heroes save the ones they care about. I can’t manage that. I’m not-.

Static shoots down my spine the moment before someone pinches my arm.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Pete,” Harry whispers, while Stark goes on and on about how he had Thor convinced for months that Steve’s surname was America, and that anyone saying it was Rogers was just spewing propaganda.

“How can you say that? You saw how long you have if they don’t-.”

“Because my best friend is going to save me,” Harry interrupts, sounding and looking absolutely sure of himself. “These two scientists are going to help out a little, but when it comes down to figuring out the solution, Peter Benjamin Parker is going to cure me. That’s just fact.”

I shake my head, barely aware of the fact that my two lifetime heroes are standing right beside me and listening. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Not with protecting the people who count. Never them. “I’m not good enough. Just some unremarkable kid from Queens compared to them.”

Harry smiles softly, the complete opposite of his fake CEO grin. “That’s where you’re wrong, Pete. Not just anybody could get powers as unbelievable as yours and choose to be a hero. Not just anybody could be worthy of Thor’s freaking hammer. Not just anybody could last a week as Peter Parker and keep striving to do better. I’ve known since I found out about this illness that you were going to save me, Pete. I just didn’t want you to destroy yourself in the process.”

I drop to my knees and hug him. “I’m going to save you,” I mumble into his shoulder, hiding the tears that choose now of all time to finally surface.

Harry hugs me back, gripping me as tightly as possible, his arms trembling from the effort. “I know. And once you do, you’re letting me negotiate Spider-Man’s contract with the Avengers.”        

“Who said he was invited?” Stark asks, ruining the moment.

I awkwardly stand back up, while Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, Peter’s not joining you. But it’s in the Avengers’ best interests to leave my favourite hero without a PR nightmare, and I can’t exactly be seen showing my support for one hero in particular. See, that might go against my not-allowed-to-be-kidnapped order. It’s for the best that you all show your immense support for Spider-Man. Unless, of course, you _want_ Peter Parker to not turn up to his internship because another cop shot him.”

“Nobody’s going to be shooting my future Head of R&D,” Stark says.

“You actually think Peter’s going to work for you once he’s finished college?” Harry questions.

“Nobody chooses to work at Oscorp. It’s just where all the SI rejects go.”

Harry scoffs. “Pete signed a future employment contract for Oscorp when we were six.”

“Harr, when we were six, I also decided that we were going to get married one day. Decisions at that age don’t count,” I point out.

I’m still going to work at Oscorp after I get my PhD, but that’s not the point here.

“Yes, well, I understand that an SI wage doesn’t really pay enough for you to afford a ring yet, but I’m not looking to get married until I’m at least 25, so I can wait,” Harry jokes; at least, I’m 80% sure he’s joking.

“Let’s wait until you’re better before we worry about the logistics of the matter,” I say. “Like me never agreeing to this. And whether dealing with May planning a wedding is anything close to a good idea.”

Harry immediately sets into a cost/benefit analysis over whether we should get married, not even touching on the crux of the argument (that the BFF stands for best friends forever, not anything else), but as the elevator doors finally open and I follow Stark and Bruce into what looks like a cross between a medical wing and biology lab, I’m kind of glad for the nonsensical planning that Harry’s doing. Because joke or not, at least he’s looking ahead to a future. That, more than anything, proves how sure he is that a terminal disease, which a lifetime of Norman Osborn paying some of the best scientists couldn’t cure, is nothing in the face of _the_ Doctor Tony Stark and Doctor Bruce Banner.

Plus, there’s this pretty smart guy called Peter helping too. And if Harry’s right, then I’m going to be the one to solve it. Maybe that hammer was right about something after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to find the right point to end this chapter, and therefore the entire fic, was painful. Yes, I could’ve gone on to include them finding the cure, and Harry recovering, but it’s kind of heavily implied that it’s going to happen. And the point of the story isn’t curing Harry’s illness, but more of to what extent Peter was willing to go to keep his identity a secret, and what ultimately made him offer it up on a platter. Plus, fully exploring the ‘Peter Parker is Worthy’ concept because he’ll never not be worthy in my eyes. 
> 
> I’ve really enjoyed writing this fic, but I definitely won’t be doing a second part, otherwise I’d never find myself ending it. That said, I am working on other Spider-Man fics (MCU Peter Parker so far, but I might come up with another Amazing Spider-Man based idea), so hopefully one of them will be up within the next month or so (I need to finish my other ongoing fics on AO3 before posting more). Hope you enjoyed Unremarkable, and if you have any suggestions for fic ideas you think I’d be good at writing, then feel free to comment them.


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